


Bondo and KMD's Excellent Promptober Adventure

by Bondopoulos, kmd0107



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Promptober, Random - Freeform, all themes from the series are game here, pov play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-07-23 08:16:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 23,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bondopoulos/pseuds/Bondopoulos, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmd0107/pseuds/kmd0107
Summary: A promptober adventure brought to you by the brains of Bondopoulos and KMD0107.  A mix of stories by each individual author as well as some co-writes.  Try to guess who wrote which and at the end of the month we'll reveal :)





	1. Neo, Hamm and Parliament

Thanks to jmazzy for the coverart!

**Saturday, October 30, 1999**

Veronica fidgeted with one of the long pigtails that was resting on her shoulder, instantly regretting her choice of costume as she scanned the room full of amazing ones. Her team’s soccer uniform for Halloween? What an idiot! What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking—that was the issue. She easily could have used her babysitting money to buy an interesting costume.

When the family had boxed everything up to move into their new house—their first house after so many years of renting!—Veronica hadn’t been thinking strategically about Halloween. She’d also underestimated how long it would take her to unpack said boxes between her rigorous school schedule, out of control middle-school homework load, and competitive soccer. Her cute Minnie Mouse costume was _somewhere_ in the throng of boxes. And it had cost so much that her parents had flatly refused to purchase her another. So the clean soccer uniform that had been sitting out on her bed had been the obvious (and easiest) choice. And it would have been fine...last year.

 _Mistake!_ Veronica grumbled to herself as she squeezed between a few Scream-mask-wearing students.

“Hi, Veronica,” a voice said from her left. She turned and smiled up at Kelvin Moore who was standing with Viet Nguyen—both in annoyingly ingenious costumes, she noted begrudgingly.

“Hi...Cartman and Kenny. You two look fantastic.” Veronica hoped she’d kept the bitterness from seeping into her words. She instantly berated herself. She needed to make the best of things. And it wasn’t everyone else’s fault that she was lame. “You boys going on down to South Park, gonna have yourselves a time?” she joked.

The boys just laughed. “Hey, Veronica,” Viet said. “Have you seen Duncan yet? He’s supposed to be our Kyle.”

Veronica shook her head, letting the pigtails flip over her shoulders to her back. “Not yet, but I know he and Lilly are coming tonight. I was just looking around for them.”

“Want to hang out here with us until they get here?” Kelvin offered.

Veronica didn’t. They were nice enough, but she was feeling self-conscious still. “No thanks. I’m thirsty. I’m going to head to the kitchen to get a drink. I’ll tell Duncan where you are if I see him.”

“Sounds good, we’ll see you around,” Kelvin said with a nod.

She turned and made her way to the back of the house, waving shyly at a few classmates as she searched out other familiar faces.

Was it just her or were the other girls’ costumes a little shorter and sexier than last year? Veronica spotted Madison and Caitlin in one corner, clad in animal ear headbands and cute bodysuits (showing off their newly developed curves). Veronica peered down at her _lack_ of curves and plain attire with disdain. At least with Minnie Mouse she could have used the amazing push-up bra that Lilly had given her for her birthday. _Grr, argh!_  

The duo waved her over, their smiles wide. She wanted to refuse, really she did. Madison and Caitlin just wanted to attach themselves to Veronica to ensure that if Lilly arrived, they’d be included in the action. Veronica knew she was a little naïve (Lilly told her so at least three times daily), but she wasn’t an idiot. She knew what these social climbers were up to. But even Veronica wasn’t so innocent that she didn’t understand that a direct snub to Madison and Caitlin was social suicide. Even if your best friend was Lilly Kane. Veronica plastered on a smile and nodded in their direction, holding up one finger to indicate that she was on her way. She made a drinking motion with her hand and took off for the refreshment table, hoping to buy herself a few minutes.

Her tactic worked, she’d just poured herself a glass of punch when she heard a shriek from behind her that could only belong to one person: her best friend, Lilly Kane. Veronica whirled on her heel to find her best friend striding across the room. The sea of people parted for her like water did for Moses. Like they always did.

Lilly looked perfect. Her long blonde hair was shaped perfectly, held back by a black bow on the top of her head. Her tight, light blue dress was short and full, and the white apron across it hit at just the precise place on her chest to emphasize her voluptuous figure. She was the quintessential middle school edition of Alice Liddel.

“Welcome to Wonderland,” Lilly cooed, tugging Veronica into her arms. Then she pulled Veronica out to arm’s length and looked her up and down. “I guess you didn’t find the costume.”

Veronica shook her head, bummed.

“I told you, you could have used my Cleopatra costume from last year. I had the wig and everything,” Lilly reminded her. There wasn’t a touch of reproach in her voice, but it was clearly an ‘I told you so’ statement.

“I know, but there wasn’t time,” Veronica sighed.

Lilly playfully flicked one of Veronica’s low pigtails. “These are cute though. And the light blue jersey matches your eyes...you picked the short shorts.” After a long moment, Lilly’s smile widened. “You did the best you could under the circumstances. I approve!”

Veronica let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that’s a relief. I was so worried about your approval,” she said sarcastically. Secretly she was relieved, but give Lilly an inch, and she’d take a mile. She was thinking of another clever retort, but Lilly’s deep intake of breath distracted her.

“Oh, my God, he came!” Lilly whisper hissed.

“Who?” Veronica asked, swiveling her head around.

“Don’t look, don’t look!!” Lilly caught her around the waist and held her still. “Logan Echolls, of course.”

 _Of course!_ Who else could it be? Ever since Logan Echolls, son of Hollywood, had moved into town, he was all anyone could talk about. Veronica had seen him in the halls of Balboa Middle School, but she hadn’t spoken to him yet. He was cute, with floppy long hair and a smirky smile that made her feel a little weak at the knees. But she wasn’t goo-goo over him. He was just a boy, after all.

Lilly raised her arm, Veronica could only presume in a wave and then turned to look at her sternly.

“ _My parents_ had _his parents_ over for dinner last night. Can you imagine?” Lilly whispered excitedly. “Aaron and Lynn Echolls in _my_ house. So much cooler than all Dad’s boring computer people that I’m supposed to be impressed with but have never heard of. But _Aaron Echolls_ !” Lilly rolled her eyes so far back into her head that Veronica was worried they’d stay like that. “He’s dreamy. Logan and Duncan played Silent Hill _all night_ and I had to watch them and pretend like I cared about video games.” Lilly shook her head in frustration. “But he’s nice, and cute, Veronica.”

“You think every boy is cute, Lilly,” Veronica whispered back.

“Shhh!” Lilly warned. “He’s standing right behind you. And he’s with…”

Veronica finally couldn’t stand it any longer and swiveled around to find Logan Echolls approaching from just a few feet away. And at his left was none other than the bane of Veronica’s existence, Dick Casablancas. She groaned in response.

“Ronnie!!!” Dick shouted, mostly because he knew she hated it.

“For the love of all that is holy...” Veronica began, but stopped short, taking him in. He was wearing bright orange bell-bottomed pants and a tight yellow lycra top that was bedazzled. He looked tall. Too tall. Veronica looked down and spotted roller skates on his feet. Over his shoulder was a plastic pig with a long tube coming from its mouth. “What are you supposed to be?” she asked him with feigned indifference.

“Flashlight,” was his sung response as he began gyrating his hips.

Veronica groaned. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” she asked.

“Flash light….red light...neon light...ooooo _stop light_ ,” he continued, spinning around in a circle. “ Ha da da dee da hada hada da da,” he continued loudly. “Now I lay me down to sleep...come this Easter I’ll eat Peeps ,” he finished loudly, leaning over so close to Veronica that their noses were only an inch apart. It was then that she realized the song, and those were _not_ the correct lyrics. She was tempted to laugh, but this was Dick. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure.

Veronica pulled back and indicated the container on his shoulder. “I see you brought your girlfriend. She’s much prettier than the last one.”

Logan laughed hard from his friend’s side.

Before Dick could respond, Veronica spoke up again. She loved unleashing her pent-up sarcasm on Dick Casablancas. “Smarter too. Which begs the question of why _you_ brought her. I mean, compared to you she’s Ein-swine.”

“Why are you so mean?” Dick asked, backing away and petting his pig container possessively.

Veronica shrugged, “You just make it so easy!” With a long sigh, Veronica decided to give him a break. Or at least time to catch up. “What is that thing anyway?” she questioned.

That brightened Dick up. All was forgiven in an instant. “It’s a party pig. Duh!”

Veronica gasped, surprised. “You smuggled in alcohol?” she asked. Lilly had snuck some sherry from her mom’s cabinet, but Veronica had vehemently refused. It was too risky and she didn’t like the idea of drinking.

Dick shook his head. “Nah, just root beer,” he explained. “Step-mommy dearest locks up the booze.”

Veronica didn’t know what to say so she chose the safer avenue and turned her attention to Logan Echolls. She noticed that he was smiling down at her and her heart gave a little stutter. Why-oh-why did she have to be so short and wearing her soccer uniform?

Lilly, having let herself be back-seated for too long, stepped in. “Veronica, have you met Logan?”

Logan smirked down at her and Veronica’s stomach dropped a little bit. He really was cute. And that smirk.

“Not officially,” Logan stated holding his hand out to shake hers.

Veronica took his hand in hers, but instead of shaking it, Logan just held her hand for a moment which sent electric shocks up Veronica’s arm and throughout her body. She gasped, unused to such feelings and pulled away quickly.

“Nice to meet you,” she said a bit breathlessly, looking away. Looking to Lilly.

“Ronnie’s dad is the sheriff ‘round these parts, so watch your back,” Dick warned.

Veronica looked back to Logan and found him still studying her intently. It made goosebumps rise up on her flesh. What was he thinking? She wished she could read his mind.

“Good to know,” Logan responded to Dick, his eyes never leaving hers. “He’s not going to come break this up is he?” Logan asked her.

Veronica giggled uncharacteristically before she could help it. “Um...no. He dropped me off on the way to the station. They’re busy trying to make sure Neptune doesn't implode for Y2K,” Veronica admitted.

Lilly laughed. “Ugh, it’s _all_ my dad talks about these days. It’s so stupid.”

Veronica didn’t say anything. She was tired of the topic too, though, while she agreed with Lilly, she wouldn’t be getting in line to fly in a plane on New Year’s Eve. Just in case.

Veronica didn’t know how to deal with the intense emotions that being the center of Logan Echolls’ attention evoked, so she fixed her gaze anywhere but on his face. Which made her notice his costume.

“You’re Neo!” she gasped, bringing her eyes back up to look at him.

Logan grinned down at her in response. “Lilly told me no one would get it.”

“No, I totally get it. It’s a great idea,” Veronica told him.

“Did you like The Matrix?” he asked her.

“Kind of,” Veronica hedged. “I didn’t really get it.”

Logan looked intrigued. “Didn’t get what?”

“Why would anyone choose not to live in the Matrix. It sucked outside the Matrix,” she told him.

“I see your point, but it’s not real. The Matrix isn’t real life. Why would you want to live a false life?”

“Um...cheeseburgers for one,” Veronica began, ticking things off on her fingers one by one. “And lasagne. Jelly beans...”

“And soccer!” Logan responded, playing along.

Veronica looked down at her costume. She could tell he was teasing her but didn’t know if she was the butt of the joke. He was so intense and hard to read.

“Yeah, what’s up with the get-up, Ronnie? So lame,” Dick interjected.

Once again, Lilly couldn’t bear to be left out. “Veronica had a little  _problem_ with her costume, so she came as Mia Hamm,” Lilly explained.

“Lame,” Dick repeated. “I see you in that almost every day.” Like the idiot that he was, Dick had barely finished the sentence before he got distracted. “Hey, there’s Maddie, I’ll see you later.” And with “Hey Maddie, wanna meet my root beer hog,” he was gone.

“Yeah,” Veronica said, hating her insecurity at that moment. Hating her need to explain. “I had a cool costume planned, but we moved this month and it’s all boxed up, and—”

Lilly’s cut into her rambling. “Veronica, don’t ever explain yourself. You’re amazing and you look amazing. End. Of. Story,” Lilly proclaimed. “Now, let’s go show Logan around,” she finished, scanning the room for someone to show off to.

“You guys go,” Veronica said. “I’ll catch up. I need a refill.”

Lilly leaned over and gave Veronica an exaggerated air kiss on both of her cheeks. “Okay, see you in a few.” She then turned to Logan and took him by the hand, ready to drag him off if need be. “Come on, Logan. You have to meet Jennings Crawford. He’s…” Lilly’s voice faded into the background music as someone turned up the volume on Thriller.

Veronica turned back to the punch table and ladled some of the red liquid into her clear cup. There was a shift in the air around her and Veronica felt suddenly out of breath again. She couldn’t for the life of her think of why until a voice spoke from behind her.

“She’s right, you know. You never need to explain yourself to anyone, least of all me.” There was a short pause before he spoke again. “And I think soccer players are hot.”

Before she could turn around, Logan Echolls was gone, but she was sure it had been him. Her heart was thumping in her chest and it took a moment for her to recover.

She didn’t know what to make of the new boy in school—this Echolls boy who made her pulse race and her tummy queasy, but she knew that one thing was certain: life in Neptune, California would never be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Dick sings is Flashlight by Parliament


	2. Cape Optional

**February 4, 2004**

When I was a boy, I always wanted to be a superhero. One of the good guys. Saving kittens. Saving people. Hell, saving the entire planet. It’s all I thought about. I spent my childhood lying on the top bunk in that tiny bedroom of our small apartment drawing pictures in my mind. Pictures of me saving the world. I never wanted to wear a cape. I didn’t need to. I was that good.

But everyone grows up. And bills need to be paid. After years of red tape and bureaucratic bullshit, private security seemed like a good path. An adult path. Where I could run the show— help people...keep them alive. And I’m good at it. And in Southern California there’s no shortage of hotshots needing to be kept alive. Now, looking back, it’s not hard to pinpoint the moment things took a turn for the worse.

Head of Security, my ass.

A henchman, that’s what I’ve become. A fucking henchman who does all the tough work while Jake sits around looking pretty with his hands squeaky clean. Not that I’m complaining. I’m paid well. Better than well.

This is just not what I’d thought my life would be back when an offer to be Head of Security for a software company had floated across my desk. I’d imagined tossing employees out on their ass for stealing corporate secrets. Or thwarting kidnapping attempts. That’s the bread and butter of private security for billionaires.

Not carrying around bags of ice to chill down teen girls’ bodies. Not framing men for murder. Not stalking innocent young girls to take pictures. Girls that have already been through enough. And definitely not sitting here on a random Thursday playing with Photoshop of all damn things in order to draw crosshairs on her face. It’s bullshit. And where is the mastermind behind all this? Not here, that’s for damn sure. And the kicker is that she’s not even the one signing my paycheck. Turns out there’s more than one Kane running the show around here.

The damn printer isn’t working well again, and I know less than nothing about hardware. Ironic considering the company name on my paycheck. I bang the printer a few times and it hums to life. Success. It’s time to finish this and get the hell out of the building.

The pictures print out in slow succession, but they look good. Professional even. My work here is done. I slide them into an unmarked folder and tuck it into my leather briefcase with my laptop and latch it closed. I’d love to go home, but tonight’s work isn’t done. The envelope will need to be delivered. And then all hell will break loose again tomorrow.

But that’s the life of a henchman. A generously paid henchman. A henchman who can retire young and spend countless days on the beach, dreaming of being a little boy who could save the world.


	3. The Existence of Proof

**February 2, 2007**

Logan’s knee jiggles nervously. It's taken two weeks of maneuvering to get Veronica to agree to this trip: a long weekend in Mexico. More specifically, he plans to take her down to a quiet resort in Rosarito. Not one of those Spring Break ‘woohoo’ party resorts, she would hate that.  No, this is a place his mom liked to go. Lots of security, great room service, and not a lot of booze. Well, there may have been lots of booze when his mom came here, but not on this trip. 

Before he can take her to what he is hoping will be a special weekend, where maybe they can get closer—strengthen their bond—he needs to show her something. Words don’t mean much to Veronica, a reality he still struggles with, but actions, actions are everything to his girl.  

He glances at the GPS, less than ten minutes to go to proof of who he really is, a demonstration of the person he wants to be. And maybe, just maybe, he’s getting closer to that reality.

“Logan, why are we driving through TJ? I thought we were going to Rosarito? Couldn’t we have avoided the gridlock? Or were you planning to get me buttered up with a donkey show?”

Logan can’t help but snicker. She’s been throwing jabs at him the whole drive, so he does what he’s been doing for the last hour and a half, deflects.

“Donkey show? Now I’m offended. Would I take you to something as pedestrian as a donkey show? Now if we could find a Zebra—”

“Gross, Echolls! Come on, I hate surprises. What are we doing? You’re up to something.”

She pouts beautifully from the passenger seat and is totally full of shit. She loves surprises and no one will ever convince Logan otherwise.

Perspiration makes Logan’s hands slippery on the wheel but they’re almost there and now he thinks maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It’s going to remind her of what an idiot and a coward he's capable of being. He can’t contain the groan that escapes his throat.  

A cool, dry hand grips his forearm. “Logan, seriously, what is going on? You’re all blotchy? You can’t possibly be nervous about whisking me away this weekend. You even managed to get my dad on board.”

He glances at her, sees her concern. A softness has replaced the interrogator's face she’s been giving him all morning. This change gives him the confidence he needs to make the last turn and to pull into the parking lot of their destination.

“ _ La Luciana _ ” is carved into a beautiful driftwood sign along with tropical flowers painted in bright colors. Much more inviting than the sign that had been in its place the previous summer, something about an all-night bar.  

Logan turns away from the parking spaces and instead pulls into the new circle drive and stops at a set of double doors where a small valet stand has been set up. He shifts in his seat to face Veronica, who is now staring out her window though her hand is still gripping his arm.

“Logan?” she asks turning back to him.

“I fucked up, Veronica. You know it, and so do I. We’ve never really talked about it, but it was part of why I ended things with you at the end of last semester. I felt like I didn’t deserve you, and it seemed like you agreed. I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I was going to do to fix that. Despite not always acting like it, I want more from life than to be tabloid fodder.”

“Logan, we don’t have to do this.”

“I want you to trust me, to see me as someone worthwhile. The only way I know how to do that is to show you. So will you let me share what I’ve been doing with you? Not just words but evidence of the person I’m trying to become?”

“Yeah." She gives him that soft smile, the one that’s only for him.   "You know,” she says, releasing his arm and turning to open the door, “this may be the first time I’ve been excited to see something you’ve managed to keep from me.”


	4. Naked Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult content! Like very adult and in a POV that puts you right into the action. You’ve been warned.

**July 7, 2006**

You shift nervously. This day has been a long time coming but things are different now and you’re different now. Not that you’ve been innocent for a long time. And those few months...you never felt like this. Cuddling really was the best part. But things are progressing quickly, your shirt is long gone and you can feel his soft lips hot on your neck, homing in on that spot. Right there. You feel your whole body heat and melt as his fingers move to your jeans.

A hot whisper in your ear, “We can stop anytime. This is all about you.”

His lips ghost down your neck, tongue tracing the lacy edge of your bra, a hot kiss pressed between your breasts. His hand grips your hip and lifts you up urging your tight jeans down your legs. Cool air raises goosebumps and you shiver.  

He looks up, meeting your eyes, dark, almost black with heat.  Your jeans fly across the room and your bra follows it moments later, you didn’t even realize he’d unhooked it.

“I didn’t even feel that,” you say, breathless and surprised.

“Just wait until you do feel what I can do with these fingers,” he says against the side of your breast and smiles smugly up at you.  

You don’t have to wait long, those elegant, long fingers, that you’ve had more than a few fantasies about, cup your breasts and roll your nipples. You arch up into his touch because it just feels so good and close your eyes because you can’t not. He continues the slow torture of pressure and feather-light brushes with the pads of his thumbs.  

One hand releases you but the bliss picks right back up as he sucks your very sensitive, knotted nipple into his mouth, flicks his tongue, and you feel it all the way to your toes.

Cool air replaces his hot mouth and you almost reach down to pull him back to your breast, until you see where he’s going.  His tongue dips into your navel and he places a kiss just below, then another kiss at the juncture of your hip. Finally, he kisses your sex. It’s almost chaste until, suddenly, it isn’t.

You’ve heard stories about his skills in this department. The stories don’t even rate compared to how amazing his tongue feels gliding against your slick flesh. How he uses his whole body, how he’s completely focused on his task but is also holding your hand, his fingers laced with yours, thumb gently tracing circles.  A reminder that you’re with him.

You hear a deep moan and realize it’s you. He sucks with just the right pressure. You lift your hips up to be closer to him, deeper inside him, and for a moment you wonder if that’s what it will be like for him when he’s inside you. If you can work up the nerve you may ask later. 

You feel pressure below his mouth, and tense, waiting for your body to give way to his hands. It does and what you thought couldn’t possibly get any better does. An insistence, an urge, you don’t have words for this feeling but it’s getting more focused and if it doesn’t break soon you think you might go crazy.  

An intense heat bursts out in waves from his tongue through your whole body.  It's like an out of body experience coming against his mouth. And then you can’t move more than to sprawl out across the bed.

A condom appears. “Only if you want to.”

“I do. I really, really do,” you say because it is the absolute truth.

He crawls back up your body keeping you reclined as his fingers stroke across your skin, cashmere soft, light as a whisper. It’s not what you expected, you thought his hands would be rougher feeling or maybe that he’d be rough. But he isn’t and you can feel heat building as his skilled hands guide you through, what turns out to be, unfamiliar territory. 

He’s gentle and slow. Letting your body get used to his. You can see the concentration on his face, it couldn’t be clearer than day itself that he wants to make this so good. And god is he succeeding so you tell him. Over and over.

“More,” you say, and he gives and gives until you shake with the need to release. He changes the angle and now with every thrust he strokes your clit. He whispers for you to come. That he needs to feel you come with him deep inside you. Then he’s begging you because he doesn’t want to come without you.  

One more deep thrust and you do. Heavy waves of pleasure overtake you and then he’s coming, and again proves that you have no idea what all he is capable of because it makes you come again.   

“I love you, you know. Never stopped,” he whispers as aftershocks quake your body against his.

You too, but the words stick in your throat so you pull him closer and tell him, “I know.”


	5. Mellow Incense and Peppermint Vibe

**Friday, November 25, 2005**

Despite the familiar setting, Casey is surprised at how nervous he feels as he pulls up to his old stomping ground. He passes the old horse trailer and the paddock and then parks his silver Porsche Carrera near the old wooden barn, laden with plants, just as it had always been. The willow trees framed the property the way they had a year ago.

As he climbs out of the car, he gives his surroundings a long look, turning in a circle and breathing the fresh air. The open air. The old fire pit is where it always was along with all the tables and chairs spread around the property. Nothing much has changed as far as he can tell. There is still mud everywhere. And though nothing has changed, everything has changed. He doesn’t belong here, and yet he does somehow. It’s hard for him to put his finger on it.

No one has noticed his arrival, but that doesn’t surprise him. They aren’t expecting him, and today is a busy day. It’s the poinsettia harvest today, the apples and corn having been collected weeks earlier. But Casey knows today is when all the work happens in the greenhouse. The Poinsettias, with their full, forced blooms are ready for harvesting before distribution. And everyone—Rain, Josh, Holly, everyone—is busily working the morning away.

With every step he takes toward the greenhouse he gains confidence. He gains momentum. It’s the greenhouse he’d helped to build. He’s survived a year doing it his parents’ way, playing the part. Until now—this moment of perfect clarity. This is where he belongs. This is his family.

Rain is the first to spot him. A huge smile spreads across her face from where she stands, bent over, arranging red-blossomed plants on a long pallet for transport. And then she does just as he’d expected. Nothing. Nothing indicates it’s been almost a year since they’ve seen one another. Nothing is said about how he’d left without a word. Nothing at all except a smirk of acceptance. A slight acknowledgment that the world is now back in order.

He falls into line, knowing his place instinctively. He receives pats on the back and nods of encouragement from the collective. He knows from the gentle squeeze from Holly and Josh that there will be much to discuss later. But for now, life moves as though he’s been there all along, just as he should have been.

When he spots a plant that is smaller than the others, a pint-sized blonde who used to be here as well also crosses his mind. He hadn’t gotten to know her well, but he wishes he had. He thinks she’d like it here. She’d understood him. He hasn’t thought of her since he’d left Neptune High, and his thoughts don’t linger long in her direction. But he takes the plant up to Josh and Holly to ask if he can keep just this one.

Josh smiles knowingly and says, “We think about her sometimes, too.”

They worked long into the night. Stopping only once for dinner out in the common area. He is a bit rusty with the hacky sack, but no one seems to mind. When darkness falls the weather is turning cold and everyone is too tired from a hard day’s work to commune for a bonfire. Casey makes his excuses and promises to return tomorrow to finish the harvest. He bids his collective family goodnight and climbs back into his Porsche with the too-small poinsettia in hand. He has one stop to make on his way back to Neptune tonight.

Luckily, he knows the route through Neptune like the back of his hand and finds an envelope and pen in the glove compartment. He jots a quick note and makes his delivery before heading back to the place he’d grown up.

Though he is weary, he is renewed by the energy of the collective. The teamwork. Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We posted kind of late for Day 4 so if you missed it head back a chapter for some LoVe fun!


	6. That Fortress Around You

Saturday, November 26, 2005

_No rest for the weary,_ I remind myself as I climb the last few steps up to the MI office. _Cases and paperwork wait for no man_ . Or in this case, no _woman_. The fact that I let myself have one day for a post-turkey-day coma is saying a lot considering how busy we’ve been lately—which is a good thing. No complaints here. But now it’s back to the grindstone.

“Another day, another dollar,” I say aloud to no one as I cross the threshold and lock the door behind me. It’s still early and the office isn’t open yet. I need time to get things in order. And most people call before they walk in, anyway.

“What’s that?” My dad calls out from his office, startling me out of my skin.

My hand on my chest, I swing around to see him standing in the jamb. “Geesh, wear a bell, would you?” I tease, taking a deep breath in an attempt to slow my heartrate back down to a respectable 120.

“Sorry, honey. I thought you heard me leave this morning,” he says, scratching his bald head in the back. “That came for you,” he says casually with a nod of his head toward the receptionist’s desk—my desk—before he turns back into his office and crosses over to his chair and takes a seat. He’s back in work-mode also.

I pivot in the direction he indicated and see a pot containing a small yet perfectly shaped poinsettia plant. The base pot is covered in green cello wrap held by a neat, crisp white ribbon and bow. The blooms are a vibrant red color and amazingly symmetrical. So perfectly even, in fact, that they almost look fake. I touch one petal and it is silky, soft, and very alive against my fingers.

“Who sent them?” I ask, but my father doesn’t reply. He’s already sitting at his desk, lost in paperwork.

Unsurprised, I cross over to my own desk and drop my bag on the floor to reach for the envelope I see poking out from underneath the cellophane. The envelope is empty, however, which intrigues me more.

“Dad, who brought them?” I call out to him a little louder than I had before. “Should I be worried?” Goodness knows I’ve been bugged before.

“I’m not sure,” he replies. “They were outside the door when I got here this morning.”

“Curiouser and Curiouser,” I say aloud, mostly to myself. But then I flip the envelope over and see a note scribbled on the front.

 

_Hildegard sends her regards. Come see us any time._

_Merry Christmas, Veronica._

 

_Hildegard?_ I wonder momentarily before my sleepy brain engages and the puzzle pieces slip into place.

Poinsettias. Christmas. The Moon Calf Collective. An almost-euthanized horse named Hildegard. And Casey Gant. I haven’t thought about him in forever.

_He went back!_

An unexpected smile spread across my lips as I consider the plant on my desk and the note in my hand. Josh’s words about how letting other people in came to mind. He’d said that leaving myself vulnerable and exposed would ultimately fill my soul. The idea bounces around in my head as though it had been subconsciously marinating there for over a year. Spending time with Casey Gant had been tempting then and was even more tempting now. Maybe I’d just have to pay Hildegard a visit over winter break.


	7. The Fixer Upper

**September 21, 2018**

Logan’s been back from his most recent deployment for almost a month, and while he loves his and Veronica’s cute little—emphasis on little—apartment, he’s starting to feel cramped. He’s also feeling stable enough with her to bring up the idea of moving. He spent considerable time during this last deployment considering how to talk her into a house. More importantly, into letting him pay for a house for them. He smiles thinking about how much Pony would love a yard to romp around.

“Veronica,” he calls out. “Can we go house shopping?” He throws out the idea casually, hoping she’ll go with it. It’s got to be better than any of the more elaborate plans he’d thought up over the last few months. Planning has never worked out too well for them.

Veronica comes around from behind the kitchen bar. “House shopping? You planning to buy a house? You don’t need me to do that.”

Logan grins and stands to meet her, grabs her hips and moves her closer to him. “But I do need you if the house is for us.”

“Us,” she says the word like she’s testing it out, seeing if it holds water.  

Logan knows it’s silly to doubt her commitment to him, to them. But that bit of insecurity over her leaving all those years ago has a way of creeping up on him in moments like this one. So he nods to her encouragingly and hopes she doesn’t see his concern.

“No McMansions. No multimillion-dollar views. No new construction. No maids. No—”

Logan cuts her off with a kiss and then continues for her, “No air conditioning, no roof, no doors.  As long as you’re there it’ll be perfect.”

She looks at him, her skepticism forming a frown. “I do want air conditioning, a roof,  _ and _ doors.  But I don’t want to live like they did.” She says the last more softly and leans her head against his chest.

He knows what she means: they. The ‘09ers, their parents, well not her parents, but all those people that still give her nightmares.

“I’ve been living in this shoebox of an apartment or in a tin can for the past three years.  I’m not talking about getting a place like I grew in. I’m talking about a place with two sinks in our bathroom.  Maybe a second bedroom and a yard for Pony. I’m pretty sure even you’d like some more space.”

She nods against his chest and settles in closer to him. One of those rare moments when she slows down long enough to let him hold her and to let them just be.

* * *

 

**October 7, 2018**

There’s a smell. Not like the stale cigarettes and Pine Sol smell almost every other place they’ve looked had. No, this is different and definitely has Veronica regretting all those restrictions she put on their house hunt.

“I know it’s pretty rough,” Joanna says, calm reassurance in her voice. The same calm reassurance she’s had as they’ve toured at least a dozen properties that somehow fit the compromise she and Logan made.

“Oh I don’t know Jo, few throw pillows, some shiplap, and new hardwoods and this’ll be a beaut!” Chip laughs, slapping Logan on the back.

Logan. She turns a glare on him. Only Logan would manage to hire home makeover gurus Chip and Joanna Gaines to get them their very own fixer-upper. She still isn’t entirely sure how he pulled it off, and despite her best efforts, she hasn’t gotten it out of him or Joanna yet. Chip seems like the weak link but he must have been warned.

“Oh come on, Bobcat. You said no mansions, and this is definitely not a mansion.”

No, it isn’t. A shack maybe. She sighs and tries to see the place with an open mind. Like they do in all those episodes of Fixer Upper Logan has been watching leading up to this new adventure of theirs.  

Joanna steps between them and turns Logan toward Chip. “Chip, why don’t you show Logan the yard.”

Logan’s shoulders slump just the slightest bit but he walks away with Chip who has launched into another retelling of the time he flew with the Thunderbirds.

After the door clatters shut, Veronica takes a slow turn around the den. It’s a nice size despite looking reminiscent of an early ’90s bachelor pad. There’s even one of those neon rotating disco lights sitting in the corner by a stack of jumbled venetian blinds.

Joanna must see that Veronica is trying to get in the mode because she steps toward the center of the room and indicates the wall. “I’d get rid of this wall, which would open up the kitchen to this den.”

Veronica nods along as Joanna explains how this stuffy little ranch could be a light airy beach house. She’s starting to see it, though it is a real stretch of the imagination.

“Do you think he’d be happy here?”

Joanna turns to her, a surprised look on her face that’s replaced with a calm motherly smile.  “Veronica, there's always going to be this fake illusion that once you get there—wherever "there" is for you—you'll be happy. But that's just not life. If you can't find happiness in the ugliness, you're not going to find it in beauty, either. Logan strikes me as the kind of guy who gets that.  This house or any house you choose, it doesn’t matter because that house isn’t where happiness comes from. You both together, that’s where happy is.”

Veronica lets Joanna’s words sink in, puts them through that investigative machine that is her brain and finds something she’s not expecting. Truth.

The years back in Neptune haven’t been pretty, at times they’ve been downright terrifying. Her relationship with Logan has been work, hard work, showing up, being there even when it was hard. But what she’s gotten in return: the ability to finally embrace who she is, accept the different incarnations of herself over the years, even the shitty ones, and maybe be just a little softer too. A little more like the girl who met him all those years ago at a Halloween party dressed in her soccer uniform.

Happy. She thinks that maybe for the first time she gets it. She isn’t Lianne settling for a life that’s easy and safe. That ship sailed when she came to help Logan. No, Veronica chose to live the life that calls to her and be the man who gets her. All of her, not just the pretty, socially-acceptable parts.

“Let’s go check out the backyard. I think it’ll win you over,” Joanna coaxes and leads Veronica to the door she’d sent Chip and Logan out earlier. She pauses and indicates the door. “French doors here and a big window, you’ll see why in a second.”

She opens the door and holds it for Veronica. The sun is bright after being in the gloomy house so it takes her a moment to realize the yard backs up to the canyon park they drove past on their way into the neighborhood. Logan and Chip are at the far end of the yard by a gate built into the privacy fence.

Logan turns a huge grin fills his face. He’s excited. She can practically feel him vibrating with it even this far away.  

“The beach is less than two miles and there’s a trail.” He points past the gate.  

Veronica steps up and looks out the gate and sees a maintained trail. She starts doing mental calculations that lead her to add at least one zero to the price of this place.  

“I know you said no multimillion-dollar views, but—”

“Technically, they aren’t asking multiple millions,” Chip pipes up, sharing Logan’s giddy smile.

With a smile she can’t help, she take Logan’s hand. “Well, then we’d better get in an offer before the owners come to their senses.”

Logan turns to Joanna. “Can you make the call?”  

“You got it. Come on, Chip, let’s get them this house. And then let’s get demo day on the calendar. That smell in there really is terrible.”  

The door back into the house makes same loud clattering sound as it slams shut. Logan squeezes her hand. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Pony is going to love this yard and the trail to the beach. And you’ll be here so,” she shrugs, “that’s all I need.”

He leans down and kisses her, holds her close. “And air conditioning.” He kisses her nose.

“Yes, that too. I may even change my mind about the maid.”

Logan huffs a laugh, turns and tucks Veronica into his side. “I love you, Veronica Mars,” Logan says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

Veronica squeezes him around the waist and buries her face in her chest. “And I love you, Logan Echolls,” she says. It still doesn’t come naturally to say the words but each time it gets a little easier and feels that much more real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quote about happiness is an actual Joanna Gaines quote and just struck me as something that would resonate with post-movie Veronica. If you don't know who Chip and Joanna Gaines are you need to watch Fixer Upper.


	8. It Takes One To Know One

**January 31, 2016**

> **Patient** _noun_ a person receiving or registered to receive medical treatment

The painkiller fog starts to recede in a very real way as the doctors decrease Keith's morphine, replacing it with hydrocodone. He still feels loopy, and he certainly hurts more, but the world begins to take on more detail again and his memory isn’t as ephemeral. So on the whole things are getting better.

He’s been practicing a line in his head all morning while he waits for Veronica to finish having lunch with Wallace. He’s primed and ready when Veronica arrives at 1:00 p.m. on the dot.  He knows she’s keeping things from him, though he hopes with a nudge he can get her headed back to New York and back on track. But his plans are shot to hell when his little girl comes in with that too tight smile and dark rings under her puffy eyes. If she were her mother he’d say she’s hungover, but Veronica has always been made of stronger stuff than Lianne. So maybe she was just up all night. And while Keith has no illusions about the sorts of activities his daughter was likely up to if she was up all night, he can’t ignore that it looks like she’s been crying.

He wants her to get comfortable. So he gets a game of gin rummy going and tries to get some patented daddy-daughter banter going, but her stiffness remains. So after a morning of getting his butt whooped, he finally works up the nerve.

“Logan return to duty today?” he asks. He already knows the answer but wants to see her reaction.

She straightens her back, face tightens more. “Yep.” 

“I’m sorry, Honey,” he says and he really is. He may not understand it, or even really like it, but there is something there between Logan and his daughter. He has to admit Logan has grown up into a fine man. Done much better for himself than Keith thought he would.

“Yeah.”  

It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t believe him, but it doesn’t really matter. Logan’s gone for six months and by the time he’s back, well...a lot can change in six months.

“They say I’m ahead of schedule here. As much as I’m enjoying all this daddy-daughter time, maybe it’s time to start thinking about heading back to New York? You’ve got a life there.”

And here it comes, that sheepish look she gets when she’s about say something he isn’t going to like. “Yeah. About New York…”

He wants to stop her but she deserves to be heard out, he can at least give her that.

“I’m not going back.” She looks up at him, her face blank, poker-faced Veronica at her best.

“Okay,” he says as calmly as he can.  “Can you tell me why?”

She nods and a little of the tension across her shoulders fades as she takes a seat in one of the visitor’s chairs.

“A lot of reasons.” 

She pauses and Keith can see her trying to decide what to tell him and he doesn’t want a version of the truth put together just for him. He wants the unvarnished truth. “Just spit it out, Kid. I can take it.”

“I belong here—with you. If I go back I’ll always regret it.”

“And Logan?”

“Logan will be spending as much time deployed as not and he has little control over his living assignments. Besides, he’s rich, so if this were just about him, long distance is long distance here or in New York.”

He lets that sink in, feels it ring true, or at least mostly true. But he can see there’s more, so he takes Veronica’s hand and squeezes just a little, it’s all the strength he has anyway.

“Remember how you said I was destined for greatness?”

“Sure, Honey.”

“That job. Any of those jobs in New York. Not only was the only good thing about them being able to pay my student loans, but I’m pretty sure it would have destroyed part of me to work for people like that. People like the Kanes.”

He holds her hand tighter. Can see the relief in her eyes at having finally verbalized this painful truth. It’s not something he had ever really considered. He’d just been relieved that she hadn’t gone into criminal law. But he sees it now.

“Being here,” she continues, “seeing those same people, literally and repeatedly, screwing over others.” She shakes her head. “I can’t do it, dad. I can’t be that person. I need to be here.  Helping the  _ right _ people. That’s why.”

Keith isn’t sure whether to be proud or scared, decides on both. “Those are some pretty good reasons, Honey. Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Working with you, fighting the good flight. Yeah, Dad, I’m sure this is what I want.”

* * *

 

**November 8, 2016**

> **Patient** _ adjective  _ able to accept or tolerate delays, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious.

The election party (read attempt at remaining sane while potentially waiting for Dan Lamb to win another election) is winding down and Keith feels the absence of one young man from the party and knows he’s not the only one. He wouldn’t call his relationship with Logan strong, but there  _ is _ a relationship there and he has real respect for the kid—man—after getting to know him. Keith has wondered more than a few times over the years if things might have been different if Veronica had allowed them to get to know each other years ago when they were so young.

Since Logan has been back in Veronica’s life she’s seemed...better. It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, and probably isn’t the right word. But she’s something and it’s different and it seems to be working for her, which is definitely something he can appreciate. She’s been through a lot on this case and he wishes she’d confide in him but that’s never been her style. A trait he’s familiar with. He’s not sure if Lianne trained them to be that way or if it was always there, a latent Mars gene just waiting for the environment to activate it. Either way, he can see how Logan’s absence is weighing her down. Even Dan Lamb losing the election, unofficial as the results still are, had only produced a grim smirk-smile from her.

She’s currently rounding up his hairy granddaughter’s things. 

“Veronica, you have to go so soon? We’re going to break out the scotch next.” He gives her a wink, hoping for a laugh or some reaction that’s more than that tight smile.

“Hot date,” is her short reply.

Keith wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes before releasing her. “Logan’ll be back soon. You get why he had to do this right?”

She bites her lip, turns back to Pony’s bag moving things around. With Veronica sometimes you have to push, move fast to keep her from hiding the truth, and sometimes you have to be patient to get a real answer. She’s reaching for composure so Keith gives her the space to find it. 

Finally, she nods and says, “The Navy, it keeps him alive. Makes him proud of who he is.  Nothing else has ever given him that.”

“He’s a good man, Veronica.”

“Yeah, he is. And if I don’t skedaddle I’ll miss our Skype date.”  She pats her leg getting Pony’s attention, turns and gives Keith a quick hug.  

With a flurry of activity, she says goodbye to the remaining guests and is out the door.  

Since Veronica came back Keith has gone back and forth about how he feels about her decision. But today, today he’s happy his little girl came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dates were chosen to match the conflicting movie/book timelines as best as possible.


	9. STDs Don’t Grow on a Trellis

November 15, 2005

Want to know what’s better than teaching sex education to a bunch of spoiled brats and social deviants? That’s easy... _anything!_ I mean literally anything! I can’t think of anything worse than what I do on a day-to-day basis. The things I have to put up with would blow you away.

When the highlight of your year is taking notes about how all the idiots you went to school with have officially spawned even bigger idiots, you know you’ve got a problem; you know your life is in the shitter.

And I know what they say about me. Ever since the day I took masking tape and taped the “Ms.” in front of the name on my desk, the rumors started. My husband left me for another man. My husband is transitioning to be the other Mrs. Hauser. At least the latter is creative. I give them points for originality. It’s totally something I’d have spread around about my divorced teacher back in high school. Karma's a bitch, and now so am I. And bitter. And the shit of it is, if I let it get to me, my car will be the next one gracing the quad’s flagpole.

Believe it or not, there’s nothing in _You’re Forty and He’s Gone_ that tells a person how to deal with a situation like this. The situation that I am in. I’m surrounded by spoiled brats who insist that chlamydia is a flower and that everyone in the world has a housekeeper, and I am the one tasked with cutting down on teen pregnancy when everyone around me is entitled and idiotic.

It’s a thankless job. And I’m stuck with it. I’m stuck with lots of things. I’m stuck with my—let’s just say it, he’s weird—son, Albert. I’m stuck with students who don’t know the difference between plants and diseases. I’m stuck with an ex-husband who is midlife crisis-ing to the point that he isn’t paying child support. Which also, I might add, leaves me stuck with the aging Black Lab, Shadow, who has diabetes and kidney failure. Do you know how expensive dialysis is for dogs? Nevermind, you don’t want to know! Suffice it to say, I need to come up with a plan to fill in the gaps in my financial _situation_. I have a feeling the solution will come in the form of Pep Squad Pie. And I won’t feel the least bit guilty, because they can go to Magic Mountain for their senior trip. And as I look in the mirror right now on my way to the Sheriff Department’s Fundraiser/Bachelor Auction, I can recall all the crap I put up with from those kids on a daily basis and tell myself I’m worth it.

And so is Shadow.


	10. ...About You

##  ...About You

“Two weeks of HELL. That’s what this has been. There is no amount of Neko Case to cure my ills this time.” Piz can feel himself spiraling, doom closing in around him. It’s Hearst post the Logan beat-down all over again.  

He reaches for his sixth small-batch domestic ale. He bought three four-packs in preparation for today.

“I knew it was coming, man, but that she made me wait two weeks to hear from her...it just hurts.  All these years, I just I really thought ‘This is it’, you know what I mean?” He moves around the boxes that now clutter the small living space. “The stack of CDs that represent Veronica’s contribution to the household music collection are staring at me from the tiny dining table we bought together.”

“Dude, how much have you had to drink? I think you inner monologue just went outer,” Wallace’s reassuring voice interrupts Piz’s reverie.

“Oh, right. Well, whatever. I just…”

“Do not write a song about her.”

“Wha—”

“And do not call her and play that stupid ass song you wrote about her after your Hearst breakup.”

“She told me that song was beautiful.”

“It wasn’t. She was being polite. And she hates Neko Case.”

“That’s just a lie. Veronica loves Neko Case.  We've seen her in concert at least four, no, hmm...” Piz has to think about it. “I guess I’ve seen her in concert like five times. Veronica bailed all but once.”  

“See. And why are you wallowing anyway? You broke up with her.”

“I was trying to get her attention,” Piz says, sadly poking at the stack of CDs.

“Veronica is more of a face value kind of person. You broke things off and she’s moving on.”

“I just feel like she’s throwing all of this away. We have this rich history. We went through so much together. I mean we saved My Pretty Pony!”

A snort across the line shocks Piz. 

“Are you mocking me?”

“Piz, you know you’re my boy, but you do not have a rich history with Veronica. Her friend that died, what was her name?”

Piz drums the edge of the table searching and finally says, “Um...Lilly something.” 

“Mmm-hmm. How about that time Veronica testified in a murder trial, what was that all about?”

“She testified? Was that the thing with that basketball player whose dad died or something?”

“No, you knucklehead. Have you never Googled Veronica?”

“Well, I’m not much of a ‘Google’ user per se, and I don’t really do my research like that. I’m more of a tactile guy.”

“For fuck’s sake, Piznarski!”

“What? You seriously think she’s better with him? She and I are meant to be, she was the one who got away, and I got her back.”

A heavy sigh emanates from the phone. “Piz, I’m only going to tell you this because I’m afraid you’re going to show up out here with a damned boombox and try to win back your lost love. Veronica is not the “one” who got away. Or at least  _ you're _ not the “one” who got away from  _ her _ .  My god, do you even know what the deal with her mother is?”

Piz pauses, wracks his ale addled brain. “Lisa, no Lianne. Um...she must have died, right?  Veronica never mentions her.”

“She’s not dead, Piz. She took off with all the reward money Veronica and Keith received for solving the Lilly KANE murder. Veronica testified at Aaron Echolls trial…”

“I was never into his movies, I mean maybe ironically for a drinking game or something.”

“ECHOLLS! Like Logan.”

“Oh, well yeah.”

“I just... she never shared any of that with you, doesn’t that tell you something?  I’m really sorry, you know I wanted it to work out with you two. But I just...Pack her stuff send it out. Mourn and then get out there and find someone else.”

The phone clicks and the screen goes black.

* * *

 

(three beers and a long nap later)

Piz has always thought of Veronica as his one, first while they were at Hearst as “the one” and then later as “the one who got away.”  After letting what Wallace said sink in, for the first time in almost a decade, he’s wondering if he’s misread their entire relationship.

Piz sits down at his laptop, pulls up Google, and finally types in ‘Veronica Mars’. He stays up all night reading article after article, even gives in and pays for the twenty-four-hour access fee to the Neptune Register. Some tamer articles chronicle her escapades on the soccer team then later as a leader for the JV dance team and pep squad. He didn’t even know she liked to dance.  

Then comes the deep stuff. At first, the articles only mention Keith Mars and his minor daughter, name omitted. Then after her birthday, her name starts to appear. “Son of Aaron Echolls charged with Murder”  “Star witness in Aaron Echolls murder case out with the accused’s son.” Piz moves on to TMZ and sees more photos of Logan and Veronica the summer after Aaron Echolls was arrested and then later the summer after their senior year, together again. “Former sheriff's daughter accuses movie star of trying to kill her” “Aaron Echolls found not guilty!” 

Piz sits back. She’s never once mentioned anything about Logan’s dad, or that he tried to kill her. He leans further back, looks up at the ceiling, and tries to really think about anything meaningful that she’s shared with him about her life in the last year. He comes up with nothing, nada. Sure they’d talked about current events, her classes, his pieces, but even when he’d tried to bring up future plans, or ask about events from the past, she’d always brush him off.

And then it all starts to make more sense.

* * *

“I was her rebound…”

“Hello to you, too.  Nice to hear you sounding more sober,” Wallace says, feeling relief that this phone call seems less likely to devolve into Piz singing sad songs.

“Why didn’t she tell me about all of this stuff? I get when we were young but we dated for a year, lived together for nearly half that time.”

Wallace takes a deep breath; he’s been waiting for this. At the very least, Piz was waiting for Veronica to call and ask for her things. Probably, more likely, he was waiting for her to call to patch things up. But not Wallace. He threw in the towel after that last-ditch effort of bringing Piz to the high school reunion. He knew there was no going back. “She doesn’t talk about it. Not with anyone really.”

“But  _ you _ know.” Piz sounds so defeated, and it makes Wallace sad but also happy that maybe now his best bud can move on.

“That’s because I lived it,” he finally says. “I was by her side through almost all of it.”

“And so did Logan.”

“Yes, that’s what I tried to explain to you years ago—they’ve got this thing. Gravity or whatever.”  

Logan...if Wallace had thought it would make a difference, he’d try to talk Veronica out of him, but she’s always had a mind and heart of her own. And besides, it really pissed him off when she interfered with his own love life. 

“She is the one, just not _ my _ one.”

“That girl doesn’t belong to anyone. Not you or Logan. But he gets that about her, and are you seeing now how you don’t? How no amount of loyalty to any of us would ever trump saving one of us from going to prison.”

The other end of the line is quiet for so long that Wallace begins to wonder if the call dropped. Then he hears a breath release. “Yeah, I think I’m starting to get it. You know, I think I almost forgot how bad it hurts to have Veronica chose someone else over me.”

“Piz, I don’t think it’s an experience you’re going to go through again.”

“No, I suppose not. She’s back with Logan, that’s for sure.”

“Yes, it is. But more importantly, she’s back with Neptune. And that Veronica...she’s too much car for you, Buddy.”

Piz finally laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. Look I’m going to go and finish packing up her stuff and maybe start looking for a roommate.”

“Good call.  Take it easy, man.  You know I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks.” 

Before the call disconnects, Wallace hears the strains of Tinseltown Diaries coming down the line. He figures Piz has found a new source of reference. Wallace had to agree that it was about as good anything else. It wasn’t like the truth would actually make Piz feel better, worse maybe.  Whatever would lead to fewer drunken phone calls was the best outcome Wallace could hope for, and he was okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to technical difficulties, this was cleaned up by someone (who hopes they did it justice) other than the original author. Page breaks and the like might adjust once we both have access to basic things like power and the internet.


	11. Support of Hypothesis

Coming soon....to a screen near you!


	12. The Dude's Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though we control this VM universe, unfortunately we still have no control over our own...specifically the weather! The previous chapter will be up soon, so stay tuned!

September 24, 2005

“Come on, Wallace,” Veronica moaned as she bobbed up and down, lying face-up on her waterbed, her arms stretched out to her sides. Wallace was used to this debate. He had a plan, which began with letting her keep going like this for a while. Being Veronica’s friend, he knew one thing for certain: Veronica needed to think she was in charge. “How lame are we that when we have a night off, we can’t think of anything to do?”

“You tell me!” Wallace spun around and pretended to examine her bulletin board. “You’re the one with all the rules. Rule number one: no ’09ers—”

“That should always be a given,” she interrupted, clearly exasperated. They’d been through this before.

He turned to face her and rolled his eyes. “Rule number two: no going to movies—” he continued.

“There’s nothing good out…” she countered.

“Says you!” Wallace said. “I, for one, would like to see—”

“And movie theaters break rule number one,” she reminded him.

Wallace made a point of sighing exaggeratedly. “Ah yes, we’re back to the ’09ers.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Like I said, too many rules.”

Veronica flopped her arms incoherently. “Yes, Wallace, this is not ’Nam. This is bowling. There are rules.”

“Well, then I’m going to institute my own set of rules,” he stated plainly, ticking them off on his fingers. “Wallace rule number one: no obscure quoting of The Big Lebowski—”

“Blasphemy,” she interrupted again. “But I’m impressed you knew that.”

“Of course I did, I’m your best friend,” he told her. Time to move ahead. “Though bowling—” he started, intrigued.

“No bowling!” Veronica interjected. “God, now I’m giving you ideas.”

“No bowling?” he whined, hooding his eyes slightly.

“’09ers,” she reminded him, but she’d deflated a bit. He almost had her. It was time to move in for the kill.

“What about mini-golf?” he asked, making sure to sound disinterested. Veronica opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off. “In Vista! It’s over twenty minutes away and ’09er free.” He paused to let the idea sink in...he could sense she was on the fence. “There’s go-karting…” he trailed the words out to entice her. She had to think this was her idea.

Veronica pivoted around on her back and sat up on the edge of her bed facing him. “Is there laser tag?” she asked cautiously.

_ Hook, line and sinker _ , Wallace gloated internally.

“Of course!” 

Veronica seemed appeased—excited even—but she mostly hid it well. “I relent. But only if we take Backup!”

He’d anticipated this. Truth be told, he didn’t mind at all. “We’re going to take the dog mini-golfing?” he asked, feigning incredulity.

“I said we’re going to take him. We’re not going to rent him shoes. He’s not going to take your turn!” she countered.

“Okay, bring the dog,” Wallace agreed. Veronica happily jumped up and began to pull on her shoes. He gave her a second to enjoy her moment of triumph before he threw his last zinger. He turned and made his way out of her room but slowed as he crossed through her door. “And don’t think I don’t know you just broke Wallace rule number one!” he said as he strode down the hall.

“Love you, Wallace!” she called out, obviously impressed.

“I know!” he called back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday, Lisa!
> 
> Who knew my internet buddy would become one of my closest friends in "real life"?
> 
> Hope today a good one. 
> 
> This chapter's for you: some healthy Wallace/V banter! Enjoy!


	13. Cosmo Gods Conspire

January 7, 2016

Wallace once told me that I’m a marshmallow. I always used to laugh it off until now—until Logan Echolls called me asking for help after almost ten years of radio silence. And here I am, less than ten hours later, sitting in first class on a non-stop flight from Newark’s Liberty airport to Neptune, California. I guess there’s more truth to Wallace’s claim than I’d originally let myself believe, a gooey interior inside this tougher outer shell. There are some people you leave everything for at the drop of a hat. Some people with whom you’ve shared experiences with that connect you in a way that even though ten years is an eternity, it’s also a heartbeat. Apparently, Logan Echolls is one of _my_ people. It just so happens he’s the boy I’ve done my best not to think about since I got out of Dodge.

Desperate for something to keep my brain busy and away from a certain sailor-boy, I turn my attention to a stack of magazines that the flight attendant handed me earlier. The New Yorker sports Jeb Bush’s fight for the Everglades. The Economist features a sketched picture of Donald Trump. I shudder. _Not exactly light, travel reading._ So I flip to the bottom of the pile hoping for something a little less political. It’s a bit jarring when my eyes land on an overly-Photoshopped Bonnie Deville brazenly peeking up at me from the cover of Cosmopolitan, her face lit up and alive. So alive.

I quickly check the date of publication and see this Cosmo is just two months old. An eerie feeling washes over me as I skim the article. There’s something creepy about reading upcoming concert dates and an article interview with someone who’s now very much dead. I feel Bonnie’s heavily lined eyes on me. They watch me as if they’re staring into my soul. But they aren’t Bonnie’s eyes—not really.

They’re Carrie’s eyes.

I can’t look at her for very long. It makes me uncomfortable. It scares the shit out of me that I know this Bonnie’s future, and I suddenly have a burningly real desire to find a way to time-travel back to warn her of her impending doom. As much as we weren’t ever friends, Carrie and I, she doesn’t deserve this. I never wanted her to be another statistic. Another Neptune tragedy. It makes me intensely sick to my stomach.

I can’t bring myself to read the article closely, so I give it a quick scan. In it, Bonnie mentions a few insignificant things about Logan. Nothing of much importance or really that interesting. The article mostly speaks about coping with stardom. It’s a subject that doesn’t interest me in the slightest...and one I believe even less. As far as I am concerned, stardom is a black abyss. And her fate just lends itself to my argument. No star I’ve ever known has managed to come out the other side unscathed, and neither have their children. Hell, even the friends of celebrities’ children can’t escape the misery of fame.

Once I notice the dark direction of my thoughts, I shift them elsewhere. I’m not even in Neptune yet, and I’m already all about the black clouds. Good thing that's not me anymore! I don't flirt with danger. I'm all about the steady and the dependable.

In an effort to distract myself, I flip back to the table of contents to look for something more frivolous and fun to read. Really anything that excludes the name Bonnie will do. When I picked up a Cosmo I’d expected a quiz titled ‘Will he be good in bed?’ or ‘Which Drake is Your Boyfriend?’. Where’s the normal sex-filled Cosmo when you need it most?

But then I spot it. The holy grail of meaningless knowledge: “Are You’re in a Dead-End Relationship”. The familiar trashy title makes me smile. It’s _just_ the thing Lilly and I would have instantly flipped to back in high school—trying to gain all worldly knowledge possible. Me being with Duncan and all. And her being with...Logan.

God, you can go years without thinking about these people every day and then they just hit you all at once on an idle Tuesday just when you thought you’d moved on. I can’t lie, though. I do like these thoughts. I like remembering the good times because it’s usually the bad ones that hit you when you least expect. They come as you write the date and realize it’s June 3rd and you can’t help but tear up in the middle of a Torts exam. Or it’s October 3rd and you start ugly crying during a Civ Pro lecture. And you can’t call anyone because they wouldn’t get it. Well, one person would, but until today, there hadn’t been a word from him in almost a decade.

I shake my head, dispelling the somber thoughts that are currently plaguing my mind and ruining any chance at an enjoyable first-class flight experience. It’s article time. I need something to lighten the mood.

_All right, what’s first?_

I skip the blurb written for the hopeless women who actually believe this article will be a cure-all for their tragic love lives. The ones who think Cosmo is a source of legitimate, personalized relationship advice.

_Okay, Mars. Let’s do this._

 

**You Know You’re In A Dead-End Relationship When:**

 

**He Never Remembers Anything About You.**

I feel a smile pull at the corners of my lips.

_We’re going to ace this!_

Piz is such a good guy. He remembers birthdays, and the day we met in college, our first date at Hearst. He even remembers the date we ran into one another again. It was me who had to squash the idea of multiple ’anniversaries’.

He’s considerate and kind. Most of the time he remembers the details I tend to forget. Sure, I may have only remembered it was his birthday after his mom called. But I was busy with school and work. But hell, at least I had time to run out and get him a gift...so it all ended well. Right?

Here I am, putting way too much thought into this article written by a washed-up former journalism major who doesn't even get a byline.

_I’ll just move on to the next one._

 

**You Have Not Met His Parents Yet.**

I frown.

Well, this one isn’t fair at all. I mean, I’m supposed to meet his parents next month. It’s been planned forever. And _he’s_ met _my_ dad, even if it was a long time ago. But if anything, it’s _me_ who's been holding back on meeting the parents. It’s not like they’re our next door neighbors or something. They live far away, so it’s hard to plan a get-together. If they lived in New Rochelle, we’d be there every weekend.

_Again, let’s move on._

 

**You Argue More Than You Laugh**

_Yes, this one is more like it._

We never argue. He’s wonderful, that Piz.

 

**You Don’t Think Of Him When You’re Not Together**

_Of course, I think of Piz when it’s appropriate._

I’m a busy woman. Not only am I busy but I’m also ambitious. I think about him when I take a break from my regularly scheduled online dates with Themas. Or maybe as I walk from Kaplan to a study group.

A few months ago I thought about him when I saw that poster with the dinosaur and the bird...whatever that band is.

_Big Thief!_

Yes, that’s it. I thought of him when I saw the poster. I even called him and told him they were in town, and he went to the show. He said it was great.

What are they implying? That I should spend my days sitting at home barefoot in the kitchen pining away for my man? I don’t think so.

_Fucking Cosmo gods with their judgemental articles…_

 

**Your Best Friend Doesn't Approve Of Him**

The smug smile returns and I, again, have to hold in a victory shout. My best friends freaking love Piznarski.

_Take that, Cosmo gods!_

 

**The Sex Is Meh**

Okay, I realize that I shouldn’t have had to take so long to think about this one. Piz is great. He’s considerate in the bedroom. He’s sweet and patient and thoughtful.

_Shit, isn’t that what people who have bad sex say?_

But sex isn’t everything. Piz and I are about so much more than sex. Sex and I are complicated, anyway, so this might not even apply to me as a non-normal person with sexual complications.

Right? Right.

_Let’s move on._

 

**There Is No ‘Next Step’ For Your Relationship. Marriage? Children? No way**

Piz and I haven’t ever talked about marriage _or_ children. I don’t even know if I want children at all.

Momentarily sidetracked, I wonder what Piz would be like as a father. I mean a father to _his_ children, not to me. And not to _our_ children. Yikes. Yet none of this is something I want to examine as I fly to California on my millionaire ex-boyfriend’s dime to choose someone to keep him off death-row.

_It’s just a Cosmo article, Veronica. Stay on topic._

But in my defense, does any of this really matter if Piz hasn’t brought up marriage either? Clearly, we’re on the same page.

_I’ll consider this one a win._

 

**You Can't Imagine Him As Your Other Half**

Other half? I slowly flip the magazine closed and check the date again as my feminist eyeballs threaten to roll permanently into the back of my head. Did I get the year wrong?

I didn’t, and I’m officially offended on behalf of every female on the planet. I can be whole without a man by my side?

I mean, sure, he’s _technically_ always my plus one, but we aren’t the same person. We enjoy each other’s company, but am I not complete without him? Hell, no. We haven’t shared the same experiences. In fact, that’s one of the things I’ve always considered to be so fantastic about our relationship. It’s comforting, _refreshing_ . He doesn’t know everything about my dark side, and I know _he_ doesn’t have a dark side.

The things I went through in high school have shaped me in a way that most people will never understand. It’s not his fault, but it’s the truth. People from Neptune have an underlying darkness that makes us who we are. And after reading this magazine, I realize that even Carrie Bishop probably understood me more than my own boyfriend.

So, no. Piz is not my “other half”. Other half seems so personal. Like soul-connecting personal. In order to be my other half, you’d have to understand what makes me tick— the things that make me, me. I’d need someone who’d been there with me through the storm. But most of them are gone— like Lilly and Duncan. And if they haven’t left me forever, we don’t talk— like Leo or…

 _Logan_.

Shit. I’m _not_ going there.

 _Let’s move on. There’s one more left. One sure-fire way to tell if one is in a dead-end relationship. Well, thank god, because I don’t know how much more of this_ malarky _I can stomach at such a high altitude._

_So here we go, Cosmo gods, bring it on. Now that I’m in this far, please astonish me with your wisdom...tell me what the last and most important sign is of being in a dead-end relationship!_

 

**You Have To Wonder If You’re At A Dead-End.**

My brow furrows in consternation. Excellent. This is total hogwash because I, for one, _hadn’t_ wondered if I was in a dead-end relationship. This is simple, light airplane reading.

And now as I sit here flying across the country to see Logan, my...whatever-he-is...with Piz sitting back in New York, I realize how important it is that my friends like him and that he remembers everything that I’ve taken the time to tell him and that we never argue.

And because this is all poppycock, I don’t have to worry about the fact that I have put off meeting his parents, or that we aren’t marriage bound or going to make babies while having mind-blowing sex. I can ignore the fact that I don’t think about him all the time, or miss him...well, ever. And as for the ridiculous importance of Piz being my “other half”—

 

 

> *We’re beginning our final descent to Neptune, California. Please make sure your seatbacks and tray tables are in their fully upright and locked positions…*
> 
>  

I stop listening. I know the drill. I close the magazine in my hands and pass it to the flight attendant as he walks by. My stomach is suddenly queasy and I feel light headed.

Neptune after all these years. Logan after all these years.

This can’t be happening. It’s surreal and my head is suddenly floating a foot above my body. In an attempt to get myself under control, I look out the window and watch the coast pass by from high above. I can’t see the waves, but I can see white foam lining the edge of the ocean where the water meets the shore.

There’s no downplaying this. I’m about to see my other-freaking-half. And…

_Holy shit...I’m in a dead end relationship._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna lie, that took five years off me.
> 
> Britt deserves a HUGE shout-out for this puppy! Thanks for the long phone call last night/early this morning. 
> 
> Never again! Never. (Please remind me because we both know I'm going to try it again!)


	14. Casa Marcholls (or X Marks the Spot)

**October 14, 2018**

Sweat drips down Logan’s forehead. He swipes at it with his grimy arm, and while this stops the moisture from getting into his eyes, it also deposits years of uninhabited house debris into his eyes instead. If this isn’t a sign to take a break, he doesn’t know what is. 

He heads to the table set up in the shade of the garage, grabs a wet wipe because Veronica has that sort of planning and forethought. Next, he downs a bottle of water and looks back at the house. Their house. 

The discovery of water damage and some mold meant stripping everything down to the studs and then replacing some of those. So basically at this point they have an entirely new house, which suits Logan just fine. He’d always wanted to build (read: design) his own house, and now he gets to without breaking any of Veronica’s ground rules. This is not a new construction and it did not cost multiple millions to buy. 

By the time they're done with the renovation they will have an awesome house and it will be a good investment, which is the only reason Veronica is letting him get away with the rather large reno budget.  

He gets her hesitancy. They aren’t married, but they are stable, and she is his next-of-kin thanks to all of the fancy legal hoops they’ve jumped through.  

Way back when he joined the Navy he knew then there was no way he could leave Trina as his next of kin, so back then he’d arranged for Dick to fill that role. But with Veronica back for good, he updated all of that. What surprised him the most was when she had named him her next of kin as well. He’d figured she’d choose Keith, but she’d given him a look that set him straight and wiped away the last of his doubts that she might change her mind. She was staying. 

A few weeks later, he left for his deployment and started hatching plans to buy a house together. And now here they were, next-of-kin homeowners. It really lacked the ring of spouse, but who cares about that when you’ve got everything else. 

“Hey, Logan, ten bucks I can juggle these light bulbs without dropping a single one!” Chip shouts through the open wall, pulling Logan back into the present. 

Logan heads back into the house and starts to inspect the row of old incandescent bulbs, the kind you can’t buy any more. 

“I’ll take that bet. All five bulbs at the same time.”

“Okay, Amigo, here we go.” Chip, almost gracefully, gets all of the bulbs flying through the air and it last two rounds before the first bulb crashes to the ground followed in quick succession by all but the two Chip manages to cradle into his arms.

Logan can’t help but laugh at Chips antics. “I’m good for that ten, but let's get this cleaned up before the ladies show up here and we get in trouble.” Logan spots the cleanup broom back out in the garage so he heads that way to grab it. He’s just about to the broom when a sparkle catches his eye out in the yard where the foundation for future landscaping is being done.

He jogs toward whatever is reflecting sunlight in the now cut weeds. As he approaches, he realizes it’s not just a bottle or some other detritus but rather a box with some kind of mirrored or metal detail sticking up out of the dirt.

A few quick swipes reveal the rest of the box, which is just larger than a cigar box and made of wood.

“Whatcha got there?” Chip asks from behind Logan.

“I don’t know. It caught my eye. I just figured it was trash, you know?” he says, rotating it in his hands and looking for an opening.

“We found a message in a bottle once during demo day. Maybe this time it’ll be a map. How cool would that be?” Chip says, slapping Logan on the back.

“Pretty cool,” Logan replies, finding the edge of what must be a way to open the box. He slides his nail into it, breaking up the dirt that seems to be holding it all together. The lid shifts and breaks in his hands, revealing several items in the box.

He quickly carries them back to the table in the garage and lays all of the items and the ruined box out.

“Well, lookie here. I’m must be psychic, because you just found a map.”

And sure enough, right in front of Logan is an old, map, with an X on it. “Holy shit, we found a treasure map!” he says, shocked. And then it really hits him. “Veronica is going to love this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Hurricane Michael put a bit of a damper on some of the writing and posting this past week.
> 
> Thank you for all the fun comments about this silly little adventure into Fixer Upper crossover territory! There is going to be a part 3 to go with this at some point this month so you'll get a resolution :)


	15. The Outing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short story based in our Trading Places world. Those of you who haven’t read it should head on over because it’s all sorts of fun. 
> 
> Quick recap: Logan is a Mars and Veronica is an Echolls...which isn’t super important to this story, other than the fact that you’ll think it’s a typo. Don’t be surprised if other little things are mixed up. We tried to keep it fun.  
> So, Veronica, daughter of Lynn and Evil Aaron, was Conner Larkin’s beard at the time she moved to Neptune, where she met Logan Mars and his best friends Wallace and Mac. She and Logan quickly fell for one another. Conner and Logan teamed up in an effort to save V from her psycho father, and somewhere along the way Conner developed a serious crush on none other than Deputy Leo. His feelings were returned, but as a major Hollywood action hero, he kept his sexual preferences private.

* * *

“All clear!” Leo breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Norris call out from the back room of the apartment they’d entered. He holstered his weapon and turned to take in his filthy surroundings.

When Clayton Norris appeared in the main room next to him, his weapon was sheathed as well. “This place is a damn sty,” he said with his usual charm.

“How do people live like this?” Leo agreed, pinching his nose to lessen the stench coming from the direction of the kitchen.

“Damned if I know. I’ll call dispatch and find out which neighbor saw the suspect come in here.” Into his radio, Norris said, “Dispatch, there’s no one here. Can I get an ID on the caller that sent us on this wild goose chase? I’d like to have a word. Over.”

Dispatch returned with a name and address, and Norris took off for the front door. “I’m going to go have a chat with this supposed witness. Lock the place up, will ya, D’Amato? We’d better go tell the landlord that this joint should be condemned.” Norris didn’t wait for a response before he strode out of the apartment, but Leo wasn’t surprised. Norris was a good officer, but he wasn’t overly friendly.

Leo secured the sliding glass door that led to the patio where they’d entered. As he turned to start for the front door, he heard a noise from the back of the apartment. He stopped in his tracks and spun, drawing his weapon as he did.

“Norris is that you?” Silence. “Norris!” Leo called. “Shit,” he murmured, expelling a long breath to steady his nerves. Norris had secured the back of the apartment, he was sure of it. Leo took a few cautious steps down the short hallway, his Glock 22 at the ready. He pressed his back to the wall of the hallway and spoke into the radio at his shoulder, “Norris, what’s your twenty? I need backup at the—” Leo stopped as he heard a wrestling sound again coming from the closed door. He quickly sucked in a breath and threw the door open to reveal a fat, orange tabby cat looking at him curiously. “Shit,” Leo breathed out and lowered his weapon. _That’s all I need, to be the deputy spooked by a pussycat,_ he laughed. The guys would never let him live it down.

“I’m coming!” Norris’ panicked shout came through his radio in puffs.

“False alarm. It was a damned cat,” Leo laughed into the radio. “Scared the shit out of me though.”

“All right. But get out of that place. The neighbor is older than the hills. She could barely see me standing two feet in front of her; there’s no way she saw someone enter—”

The hallway closet door flew open and there was a blur of movement accented by three loud pops. Leo was knocked off his feet and landed a few feet away on the floor. Pain lanced through his chest, making it impossible to breathe. He tried to raise the arm holding his gun, but he couldn’t tell if it was lifting or not. There was only pain. And ringing. Deafening ringing.

Two more muffled pops shot through the air and then a body pinned him down. The shooter’s body, he realized in surprise as a wave of nausea hit him. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. And he was going to die looking into the face of his murderer. Shit.

“10-00! 10-00! D’Amato and the suspect are both down. I repeat…”

And then everything went silent for Leo. He vaguely felt the body being hauled off of him and then Norris was hovering over him, his mouth still moving as he screamed into his radio. But he didn’t hear anything.

Norris tugged at his vest. Leo wanted to scream for him to stop. It hurt, but he was getting cold. Too cold. He wanted to shut his eyes, so he did.

 _Conner_! The name screamed within his head. _I was right. I knew it. We should have been together…publically. All these years of hiding. I was right..._

He willed his eyes to open and suddenly everything was so loud. Norris was screaming yelling into the radio. “…one shot missed his vest….losing consciousness…ambulance…”

“Con-ner,” Leo used all his strength to say.

Norris shook his head. “No, man! I’m not relaying any faggotty love messages to your boyfriend, ya hear?” Norris’ face softened. “You’ll tell him yourself. I’ll call him as soon as the medics get here. No goodbyes, okay? You’re gonna be fine!”

Leo nodded and tried to relax, but he had so much that he wanted to say. He decided to make one last-ditched effort to speak, but he was growing weak.

Norris had his hand pressed against Leo’s side right under his arm and looked into his eyes. “Don’t waste your energy talking. I was kidding about faggotty messages. I’ll tell him, Leo. No worries. I’ll tell him. But you hang on.”

Leo felt the darkness looming again and he watched Norris’ free hand come up to push the button on his radio again. He heard his partner yell, “Where the hell are you guys?” as sirens began screaming in the distance.

 _Shouldn’t have hid. Who cares?_ was the last thought that passed through his mind as the darkness took over.

 

* * *

 

Leo came to gradually, too gradually. There was pain, of that he was sure. He fought to gain control of his mind amidst the haze, but it was a losing battle more than once. His third effort proved to be more fruitful than the first two. He managed to open one eye, but immediately gasped for air, choking. His other eye finally opened as well as he gagged again.

“Hold on, relax, Deputy.” A face appeared, looking calm and controlled. “You’re intubated. Just let me…there’s a tube…” The choking stopped and he began to cough, which just made everything hurt more. “Just relax. Your throat will hurt for a few days. I took the tube out.”

There was a pause and Leo’s eyes darted around desperately. _Where am I? What happened?_ The words were lodged in his throat.

“Welcome back. No, don’t try to talk yet. My name is Pamela, I’m an ICU nurse at Neptune General. You were in an accident at work…you were shot. You had surgery. I’ll get a doctor in here as soon as possible. For now, you just need to heal. There’s been a line of deputies outside the door for the past day and a half.” She smiled. “Maybe now that you’re awake I can finally get some peace around here. And maybe your _brother_ over there will stop wearing a hole in the floor.” She sighed and rolled her eyes.

_Brother? Which bro—_

The nurse stepped aside, and Conner’s face appeared in her place. He looked terrible. His eyes were puffy from obvious crying, and his usually perfect hair was a mess and his handsome face was blotchy and red.

“Conn—” Leo choked on the words, his throat too dry to finish. He felt tired again, but he didn’t want to sleep. He fought the impending darkness tooth and nail.

“Shhh…shhh, love. Don’t try to talk,” Conner spoke hurriedly. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I don’t know what I’d have done if…” Conner shook his head and cleared his throat. “Your family’s here and just about every deputy not on duty.”

Leo sighed as Conner reached up to wipe the tears from Leo’s eyes and then placed his hand against Leo’s cheek. Leo leaned into the touch. He needed Conner. “You need to rest and sleep. I’m not leaving. I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay…sleep.”

Leo managed a nod and tried to bring his hand up to cup Conner’s on his cheek, but he didn’t have the energy.

“I love you. I’m so sorry…about being afraid. Sleep now…I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Leo smiled as Conner leaned down to give him a peck on the forehead. He let himself slip away again, feeling less afraid this time. Conner was here and that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

Conner felt the moment that Leo slipped back into sleep and then let himself relax a little bit. It was the first time in thirteen hours that he’d let himself believe that Leo was going to be okay. He slid into the uncomfortable chair next to the bed, moving his hand from Leo’s face to clasp his hand.

He closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths. _Better,_ he thought and wiped the tears away from his own eyes with his free hand. He’d been in a state of shock ever since Keith Mars had called him on set in LA with the news. He’d finished the shot to find seven missed calls from the Balboa County Sheriff and various other deputies and had just _known_.

They were lucky. It could have been so much worse, it could have been…Conner shuddered and pushed those thoughts out of his mind. It didn’t matter anymore. He’d been so scared. His publicist had been scared. He was at the peak of his career. He had nowhere to go but down. But now he saw that all the money and fame in the world was secondary to having someone to come home to at night. To the people you love. Nothing mattered except Leo and healing and…he looked down at their intertwined fingers and felt a new wave of tears threatening.

It was late. The middle of the night. And he was in the ICU in Neptune with the love of his life.  And he’d almost lost him. But he hadn’t. They were here together, and Leo would recover, and Conner would grovel...but things would be okay. He was grateful that he’d been there when Leo had woken up. Strictly speaking, he wasn’t supposed to be in the room at all. Visitors were restricted and visiting times were limited, but Keith had convinced the nurse to make an exception. He’d told her that Conner was Leo’s brother.

Thinking of the nurse, Pamela, Conner’s eyes widened, realizing the show they’d just put on had been anything but fraternal. Cautiously he snuck a sideways glance at the middle-aged woman at the corner of the room. She was tapping notes into a computer but noticed Conner.

“His vitals look good.” She walked over to pat Conner on the shoulder. “I’m glad you can relax now that you know your _brother_ is just fine.” She sighed and ruffled his hair. “My daughter reads Teen People…I know Conner Larkin is an only child from Topeka.” She winked.

Conner waited for his breath to catch in anxiety, but it didn’t happen. It didn’t matter anymore. He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you for letting me stay.” He turned his gaze back to Leo lying ashen in the bed. “I’ve been so stupid.”

“Oh, honey, he’ll forgive you.  These things have a way of putting things in perspective, don’t they?”

Conner nodded. “Indeed, they do. But thank you…seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I had to wait out in the hall with the others.” Conner nodded his head toward the door.

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go give those boys out there an update? They’re almost as worried as you are. His poor mother must be out of her mind; she’s still pacing.”

As much as he was loath to leave Leo, Conner knew that she was right. His family deserved an update, and the deputies too. It was the least he could do after all they’d done arranging to get him to Neptune so quickly. After the news had come, Conner had been pretty useless as far as coherent thought was concerned, and he was glad they’d arranged transportation.

Conner fanned his face and smoothed his hair, trying to regain some semblance of composure even though he felt none. He leaned over his sleeping boyfriend and kissed him on the head again before turning to meet Leo’s friends and colleagues.

He walked through the ICU doors and into the waiting room and smiled at the sight of everyone waiting for Leo. Everyone who loved and accepted them. Most people were asleep in their uncomfortable chairs.

Conner couldn’t believe he’d been so worried about them being out. His career meant nothing to him without Leo. Nothing meant anything to him without Leo. Fame was fleeting. What he had with Leo was forever. But thankfully they still had time.

Leo’s mom caught his eye first and immediately brushed past him into the ICU ward. Then Logan Mars looked up. Logan nudged a sleeping Veronica who was sitting curled in his lap and then turned to poke his father in the side. Keith Mars immediately jumped to his feet and gave Conner a questioning look.

Veronica reached him first and pulled him into a tight hug, which he returned.

“He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.” Conner could hear his own voice shaking and smiled at Leo’s family over her shoulder. The Deputies began to wake up and Keith passed on the news.

Several of the guys came over to give him a hug and offer words of encouragement. It amazed him, the support. Everyone here cared about Leo. His Leo. He was their partner, and who he loved didn't matter.

It gave him strength. And faith. And hope.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, jmazzy!


	16. The Path of God

November 17, 2006

“We are the salt of the Earth,” Daddy always says. And I mean always. Daily at least. Often more than that. Sometimes when he gets to preaching, we are obliged to sit and listen for the duration. Hours on end. The path of God is paved with righteousness. He likes to drill ideas into us. It’s for our own good though, our own salvation. We’re to be tested.

Being the salt of the Earth comes with responsibility. It comes with obligation. And, boy, are we made aware of our obligations. To God. To our parents. Mostly to God through our parents. It’s an important distinction. And a fine line. For instance, if a person—and I mean a person like me—was to think that my daddy’s directive was in direct contradiction with the word of God, that person should _not_ question the word of their father. To do so would lead to discipline. The path of God is paved with righteousness. Obedience is key. Thinking is not. Eventually, I learned that thinking for myself was the problem altogether.

Meg left. She left to be with Jesus, taking Baby Faith with her. That’s what Daddy said. It was her punishment for fornication. For disobeying him and, through him, God. The path of God is paved with righteousness. And Lizzie also took an unrighteous path. She left after high school to live a life of sin. Or so Daddy says. She told me she’d come back for me. I wait every night. I have a bag packed and hidden under my bed. For her or Veronica. Meg said that Veronica was one of the good ones—someone you can trust. One of them will come soon. Sometimes when I’m in the closet for too long and get hungry, I dream of them coming together to take me away. It’ll happen. I just have to be brave and wait.

But until they come, I have my angel. My angel protector who knocks on the door every few days just to remind Daddy and Mommy that he’s never far away. Always watching. I heard him say that when he came to check on me. And he comes right up to the door when they’re gone. Sometimes he leaves candy. Sometimes he leaves me milkshakes. Sometimes he just drives down the street slowly like he is doing now and waves up at me to let me know he’s here. That he _knows_. The path of God is paved with righteousness. And my angel is righteous. He watches over me until Lizzie or Veronica come to take me away. It’ll only be a few more days now until I am free.

Daddy says that _we_ are the salt of the Earth, but I know better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We posted yesterday's late in case you missed it.


	17. Running From Nothing

**May 2, 2007**

A little out of sorts, Veronica sits in the Hearst Cafeteria with a small stack of letters in her lap.  They’re thick and familiar. This isn’t her first rodeo she knows what she’s got. Or rather, has known what she has for just over a month.  The return address of the one she placed on top has the Standford signature emblazoned across the envelope. But opening it. Actually seeing the words.  She’s not sure if she’s ready for what it means. 

Just after the Spring semester started she’d decided that the applications she’d sent over out over the winter break no longer mattered.  Things had been good…well better. But turns at out that was just the eye of the storm. Madison blew back into her life and proceeded to blow up the hard gained trust she’d been working on with Logan.  Then Parker…seeing Logan move on with Lilly-lite had not felt good. 

Piz… is nice.  In a naive and boorish sort of way but there are worse things.  She’d told him they should just be friends but his persistence joined with her own heartache had been a match made in Neptune.  She was trying to just have a little fun and it was kind of working. Piz didn’t push her to open up. Didn’t make her face any of the things she had grown to dislike about herself.  And he didn’t...mostly...well yeah, he just didn’t. 

So no one knew about the applications and since she had the forethought to use a PO Box as her correspondence address, no one would need to know unless she wanted them to.  Which was good because all the reasons she’d decided to stay in Neptune haven’t really changed. She still feels like she shouldn’t leave her dad. She still feels like she shouldn’t leave Logan, despite telling him she wanted him out of her life.  She didn’t mean it and has felt nothing but relief that she was able to tell him she just needed time after he beat the shit out of Sorokin. Even with that, everything feels ugly and twisted. Piece by piece, Neptune is eating up everyone she cares about and the last parts of herself she likes.  

The urge to get out the piano wire as she watched Parked grow more and more enchanted with Logan was too painful.  And it doesn’t matter that Parker broke up with him after his caveman display because there would always be another Parker, Hannah, or Kendall.  If Veronica has learned anything it’s that while she has deep feelings for Logan, his must not be because he always seems able to move on. So it’s time for her to do the same.

So now she’s thankful that In December she quietly filled out applications to a dozen school at a range of levels.  Stanford by far is the closest geographically to Neptune, most of the others being on the East Coast. Distance will help and hopefully allow her to heal, even if she’s just in Palo Alto.  Vassar is on the list as well, a chance to live out Lilly’s dreams maybe. She isn’t sure if she could really go if accepted but the gesture made her heart light for a few hours and that meant something.

Also In the stack is a letter from the FBI.  It too is thick and promising, but it will keep.  Stanford needs to be first. It’s a chance for a fresh start.  To take the path she’d planned until Beaver had almost destroyed her world.

She slides her finger under the flap.  A sharp sting burning her finger as the thick paper brakes her skin.  Blood drips on to the paper as she pulls it from the envelope.

“It is our greatest pleasure to offer you…”


	18. Rotten (Newly Added Chapter 3-27-19)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is on the mature-ish side and definitely dark, canon abuse/death

His hands grip your hair.The prickling pain mixes with pleasure as your heart tries to beat out of your chest.He’s rougher than you were expecting but also more exciting. You’ve always assumed he’d have bedroom moves in spades, but once he’s inside you, his gaze focuses on a point behind you his thrusting doesn’t change tempo as you redirect the angle of your hips, which is not okay. This is about you! So you take back control, roll him on to his back. You let him watch your tits bounce and moan when he finally takes the hint and cups them, and pinches your nipples the way you wanted.His body tenses beneath you, and he’s done. Just like that. He pushes you off and walks to the bathroom.No offer to finish you off, like you thought was the norm, or at least what passes for the norm.You stare at him, your body still pulsing with need.

“I feel so much better.You were wonderful.”

That was the first time, and you know it should have been the last time, but he has this way of making you think it will be different.That you might be special to him but then—

“You need to get out of here.”

You watch him light up a cigarette and try to move your aching body.Joints stiff and muscles slow to respond.This sinking hollow feeling deep inside you starts to push toward the surface.You want to snap _You hurt me_ , but the darkness in his eyes hold your tongue.You’ve seen this look before. 

Purple and blue and green.You’ve seen this before too.Red lines fade to purple, rough to the touch. _You hurt me, silly girl, trim those nails_.Maybe you’re not as responsible for his darkness as you thought. 

Today, you decide, you’re going to tell her.She’s your best friend forever and ever and ever.You know she’s going to be mad at you, but she’ll also forgive you.She’ll know how to get you out of this hole you’ve dug. 

“I’ve got a secret, a good one.”But even as the words leave your mouth you know, it’s not a good anything — wrong, horrible, betrayed, evil.

You get in your car.One last time.One last time.Maybe it’ll finally be different.Except your pretty sure the rot growing inside you is killing everything that matters.The Prozac is definitely not working.You spin around the pool house bedroom with its gaudy drapes that you used to think were so cool.That’s when the light catches your eye.A small glint.You always did like shiny things.You run your finger over the glassy surface of a lens.A camera lens. 

The small screen and stack of tapes send a shiver up your spine.The tiny videotapes with your name in block print stare back at you.Your hand slips off the cabinet doors as cold sweat fills your palms.

Music cranked as loud as it goes isn’t enough to drown the noises in your head.You were recorded.There could be other tapes.What are you going to do with the ones you’ve taken.Horns blare and your, already, frantically beating heart kicks into overdrive: a flash and a glimpse of red light.You’re okay. You’re okay.

You take the screwdriver out of your nightstand, stand on tippy-tippy toes, and slide the tapes into your favorite hiding spot.A happier memory fills you up, hidden keys and tequila shots by the pool.A boy, so much better than the man, giving you everything he’s got.Reconciliation is good for the soul. 

“Where are they, Lilly!”

The man blurs to a boy, covered in scars that you can’t ignore anymore.But it’s too late; you’re out of time, and he’ll never know that you couldn’t regret what you’ve done more.And she’ll never know that you loved her the most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the VERY long delay getting this completed! And thank you to Bond and Irma for their encouragement to get back to these :)


	19. Holding Pattern Continued

This one is gonna be great...in a few days ;)


	20. The Good Place

“Oh my God! I think I’m totally...dead,” I say aloud, spinning in a slow circle and checking out my surroundings. It’s hard to see. I can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that I know I’m dead, but I clearly am. Or I think I must be.

“How did I even get here?” I ask no one. There’s no one around me so there doesn’t seem to be a reason to keep the dialogue internal. And goodness knows, I’m kind of freaking out here, so the fact that I still have _my_ voice is oddly comforting. Refreshing, almost. But the relief is short-lived because I’m _clearly dead_.

I have a flash of Veronica Mars of all people. And then Cobb. “Shit!” I pout, more annoyed than anything else. “That psycho totally killed me.”

I spin around again in the opposite direction, squinting into the blinding light. It’s bright and shiny, and now I make out rolling hills for days, but other than that, there isn't much to look at.

So far Heaven totally sucks. I always imagined my Heaven would be so much cooler than this. Beautiful clothes. Friends. Parties. At the very least some music. And instead, I’m all alone, which is pretty much my worst nightmare. Me alone in my own head without adult supervision is never good. Why am I alone? I was amazing when I was alive. I had friends. Some of them are even dead. _Hey!_

“Susan?!” I call out, swinging wildly to yell into the neverending landscape? “Carrie?!” Silence.

“Dammit. I was _murdered_ . It’s _traumatizing_. What’s the point of having dead friends if they don’t come greet you when you croak!” I yell off into the distance. Insults don’t help. “You all suck,” I lament to Heaven and my dead friends dejectedly as I plop down to sitting.

A moment later a new thought occurs to me. I jerk up to standing in one swift motion.

“Dad?” I call out, hopefully, spinning again hopefully. Maybe desperately.

I mean, turns out my dad is a pedophile, which pretty much ruined my life for a while. My whole family’s life is more accurate. But he’s still my dad, and despite all that creepy stuff, a familiar face would be nice about now.

No such luck, though.

I feel the need for comfort. I could really go for a Long Island Iced Tea and some white chocolate Reese’s about now. “I wonder if you can eat whatever you want in Heaven and not get fat.”

“It’s true. You can,” a voice informs me from behind and I swing around, a gasp stuck in my throat.

“What the—” I begin and then I recognize the person in front of me, though we’ve never met before. It’s a face I’d seen all over school, the news, and the internet my whole adolescence. “Lilly Kane?!” Seriously? Someone is messing with me because of all the people I could meet in Heaven, Veronica Mars’s dead best friend is low on my list.

Maybe I’m in ‘Murdered Heaven’! Though if that were true, my dad would be here. And Carrie. And Susan. And everyone on that bus. Jesus Christ, Neptune is a fucked up place.

Lilly rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Sorry I was late. Time hasn’t ever really been my... forte,” she explains. “I was busy.”

“Doing what?” I ask, looking around. There’s nothing here.

“Mostly being fabulous,” she explains as if this makes sense. But it kind of does. It’s Heaven, after all.

I take her in. She’s still beautiful. Maybe more beautiful in person than the pictures I’d seen. She’s still young and gorgeous. Her hair is shiny and perfect. It seems almost unfair, though, considering what she went through, maybe it’s the most fair thing in the known universe.

“Did Aaron Echolls really kill you?” I ask her. I’m not sure why. It’s a stupid thing to ask, but I ask it anyway.

“Yes,” Lilly answers simply.

“Is he here too?” I ask, looking around once more.

“From time to time,” she answers with a shrug.

“Is that...awkward?”

“Nah.” Lilly waves her hand to dismiss the thought. “It’s not important. Everyone dies.” She begins ticking things off on her fingers. “He killed me. And my brother killed him. Beaver killed...like _everyone_ . _”_

“He almost killed me too,” I interject, lamely.

Lilly nods. “Yup, you _and_ Veronica. I saved her.” Lilly shrugs, clearly unconcerned with the fact that she didn’t even try to save me. “Then Beaver killed _himself_ . And Susan killed _herself_ . You killed Carrie. And then Cobb killed _you_ ,” Lilly summarizes, drawing out the last _youuuu_ as if it were a song. She emphasized it with nonchalance, as though it was a triumphant climax and yet nothing at the same time. And it really did seem like nothing to me too. I was oddly detached from my own life and death at this moment. Weird. “Does that about sum it up?” she asks, though it sounded rhetorical.

“Maybe,” I answer, confused. I scratch my head, trying to make things come together. “It’s all blurry. How do you even know who I am?”

“I keep abreast of the comings and goings of Neptune,” she explains cryptically.

“So you’ve been watching us? That’s creepy,” I tell her.

“It’s not so much that I watch as I just _know_ ,” she says. “You’ll see.”

“So what now?” I ask her. This all seems so pointless. “Where is everyone else?”

“They kind of...come and go. We can do whatever we want.” Lilly begins to walk away and I follow her, mostly because there isn’t much else to do. I don’t have any plans. “We can visit people from time to time if it’s important. Usually it’s not. We can shop. We can hang out and make new friends. There’s lots of frozen yogurt here.”

“Yum!” I say with a little clap of my hands. Suddenly Heaven is looking up.

“Come with me, Heaven kind of eases you in, but now that you’ve adjusted to the light, we can move ahead.” She starts to walk off in one direction, motioning for me to follow.

I suddenly feel overwhelmingly grateful for Lilly Kane. She’s been dead a while. She can show me the ropes. I speed up a bit so that we’re walking side-by-side into whatever the future in this new place holds for me. For us.

“Long Island Iced Tea?” she asks, suddenly holding two in her hands. She passes one to me.

“Yum, don’t mind if I do,” I say happily, taking a long gulp. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Being murdered does take a lot out of you,” she explains.

Lilly begins to walk again without looking back. I know she assumes I will follow, and I do.

“Did you really date Dick Casablancas?” Lilly asks conspiratorially. Like we’re at a sleepover in junior high and have known each other forever.

I scoff. “Yeah, but only for like a _second_ and it was forever ago.”

Lilly laughs this time and I reach out to put my arm through hers.

“So what else can we do around here?” I ask as I take another sip. “This is good!”

She rounds on me, stopping in place, and her eyebrows shoot right up to her hairline. “We can make predictions!”

“Predictions?” Now I’m confused again, but I’m excited that she’s excited. “About what?”

“Hmmm…” she ponders. “Liiiiike…” Lilly tightens her hold on my arm and leads me away again, over the hills. “Ooo, I know! Like who will be evicted from Earth next!”

Death predictions! How morbidly fun! I should want my murderer to be next, but, as Lilly said, it doesn’t seem all that important.

“Weeeelll, I for one am voting for Madison Sinclair,” Lilly decided. “She’s a blight against humanity, for one thing. But, and most importantly, we could use a good trainer up here.”

“Good call,” I reply, genuinely happy. I hold my glass out to hers and we toast gleefully. “I’d be cool with her dying. I mean, if we didn’t have to see her all the time. She’s still a total bitch.”

Lilly turns to me to toast again. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Gia. Until you’re ready to be fabulous here by yourself.” She pauses for a moment and then continues, “Let’s go get some frozen yogurt.”

“With sprinkles?” I ask.

“Of course,” she responds. “And white chocolate Reese’s!” she whispers conspiratorially.

 _Okay, Heaven, I take back what I said before,_ I think to myself. Because now there’s someone here and we’re back to inner monologue.

“You know who else is here?” Lilly asks but doesn’t wait for a reply. “Kendall Casablancas. She’s fabulous too. She has great taste in shoes.”

I don’t really know who she’s talking about, but I do love shoes. “Lead the way,” I tell her. “Oh, and by the way, my money’s on that biker dude we went to school with to go next. The one with the tattoos.”

“Weevil?” Lilly asks, surprised. “Nah, he can’t come for a while. Veronica still needs him. So much corruption yet to fight. She’s all about the do-gooding.”

“She didn’t save me!” I argue. I’m not upset. It’s just a fact.

“Yes, Veronica often gets things very, very wrong,” Lilly explains. “But she usually comes around.” After a few paces, Lilly speaks up again. “I’ll give you another guess after you’ve had some time to get the inside Neptune scoop. It’ll come in waves.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I tell her. “In fact, it sounds fabulous. But I hope you’re right, actually. I’ve always wanted to learn pole dancing.”


	21. Lilly Still Owes Me a Soda

November 4, 2004

When Lilly and I were little, we always said things at the same time. More specifically, the same thing at the same time. It used to drive Duncan crazy. Literally crazy. When Lilly and I would get in sync, no one really wanted to be around us. And then we’d start jinxing one another so one of us couldn’t talk until someone said our name. About that time, Duncan would lock himself in his room or ban us to Lilly’s. But the joke was on him, because eventually when I got sick of not talking, I would always go hassle Duncan because he’d always say my name and let me off the hook. Duncan was always the one who came through for me. Well, until he wasn’t, I suppose.

Once, when I was like eight and Lilly was nine, after a particularly long day of jinxing each other, Lilly called “private jinx” on me and she just wouldn’t relent. She didn’t say my name for hours, and even though Duncan said my name, and Jake said my name, I wouldn’t break the private jinx. I was stubborn too. Rules are rules. Private jinx was serious, I wasn’t going to speak until Lilly released me. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to get punched in the shoulder. Lilly was stronger than she looked. I didn’t speak the whole way home or through dinner that night. My parents got so fed up with it that they called Celeste, who forced Lilly to say my name into the phone.

We went on that way for years until the Kane family went on vacation to Italy and Lilly met Giovanni. Giovanni, Lilly claimed, was the _cutest_ boy in the whole wide world. And Giovanni told Lilly that according to Italian superstition if two people said the same thing at the same time that they were doomed never to get married. Ever. To anyone. Giovanni told her that the only way to counteract the no-marriage-curse was to touch your nose. Lilly naturally didn’t fall for this, but the Italian version of jinx was so much more _sophisticated._ After that, we were never allowed to say ‘jinx’.

And of course, when Lilly was involved with things they tended to evolve. One thing lead to another, and suddenly it was a little competition, because...of course, it was. We both had to touch our nose as quickly as we could, thus dooming the slower person to a life of lonely spinsterhood. We eventually started touching our nose even when we weren’t the ones who spoke at the same time.

The Italian version of jinx was much more supported by everyone else involved. Duncan even got into the act, and eventually Logan. My mom and dad would find themselves doing it back in the day. It’s one of those stupid superstitions that I still find myself doing from time to time. Without even thinking. Like a habit.

“Veronica Mars!” A voice cuts into my musings. “Earth to Mars.”

I smile at Ms. Dent like I haven’t heard that one before a million times, but only because I genuinely like her.

“Sorry,” I tell her. “I was wool-gathering.”

“I can see that,” she replies, but kindly. “I was asking if you wanted to take the cafeteria interview piece from Ashley.”

From next to Ms. Dent, Ashley pipes up. “Yeah, I can’t go in there today. They’re making cashew chicken and I have a bad reaction if I’m around nuts.”

“There goes your social life,” chorus Caitlin and Madison.

I can’t help it. As much as I hate Madison Sinclair and Caitlin Ford, I can’t help it. A snicker escapes my lips because it’s _exactly_ something that Lilly and I would have died laughing at. _Clueless_ was a staple of ours, and neither of us had any love for Ashley. And, before I can stop myself or even think about it, I reach up and touch my nose.

But the craziest part is that out of the corner of my eye, I see Logan and Duncan do the same. And then a flash of a smile crosses both their mouths when they notice the three of us, each with a finger on our nose. And for one heartbeat, the world makes sense again. For that one instance, we are twelve-years-old. And Lilly isn’t dead. And Duncan isn’t ignoring me. And Logan and I aren’t at war.

But then the bell rings, signaling the end of Journalism, and we all catch ourselves. Reality washes over me—and I suspect washes over them as well—and we all look away. I hastily shove my things into my bag and hoist it over my shoulder to escape that room as quickly as I can.

“Veronica?” I hear Ms. Dent call out, but I barely hear her. I stay my course and head straight to the girls’ bathroom. Managing to keep my face straight, I turn sideways to move past a freshman. I throw myself into a stall just as tears threaten to fall.

 _You will not cry, Veronica. You will not cry._ _You will not cry._

It takes a moment, but I pull myself together. After the bell rings and the bathroom empties out, I leave my stall and move to the sink, splash water over my face, and give myself a hard stare in the mirror.

Game face firmly back in place, I steel myself for the drama that the Neptune High halls have for me as I throw open the bathroom door.

_Bring it on._


	22. Hot Mess

**May 15, 2010**

Veronica’s brain was trying to dig its way out of her head.  

_ This is what I get for betting with Mac.  _

She rolled onto her back and felt a sharp pain on her ass cheek and heard a loud groan.  She sprang out of bed, not remembering having brought anyone home. As a rule, she did not bring strange people home with her.

“God, Veronica. What happened last night?” a familiar voice stopped Veronica from reaching for her stun gun.

“Logan?”

“Guilty as charged,” his laugh broke on a cough, and he clutched at his head. “Though I think the punishment is worse than the crime. And Veronica, why the hell does my ass hurt?”

Veronica rubbed her cheek where is hurt as well and felt an unfamiliar texture. This was so much more than she was prepared to deal with.  

Veronica turned her attention back to the bed and considered its occupant. She and Logan had been known to end up in this position from time to time since her transfer to Stanford. She would come down to Neptune to visit and they’d both end up at Mac’s, then at Logan’s… Though it had been over a year since the last time.

Veronica took in her state—naked—and Logan’s—very naked.  She stumbled toward the bathroom need some space to evaluate the situation, and possibly to throw up. Once there, she turned to look at her backside in the full length mirror that hung on the door. 

A tattoo in flowing script graced the upper swell of her ass:  _ Logan _

“Holy shit! Logan get in here,” she yelled, her need for privacy forgotten in the shock of her discovery.

After much groaning and the sound of things falling, Logan leaned into the bathroom. He licked his lips and leered. “Mmm...I’d kill for some Advil first, but I’m pretty sure I can make it work.”

“It? Seriously, Logan? Look at my ass!”

“Trust me, I am. You’ve gotten hotter since last time I saw you like—” His hand caressed her hip sending a wave of pleasure through her. “Why is my name on your ass?”

“Turn around.” Logan stepped back, and Veronica admired him too—his sentiment was definitely a shared one—but then she saw what she was afraid of, in the same script, her name was etched into his skin. “Come look.” He complied and stood in front of the mirror.

“Okay, I remember us all meeting up last night, and I remember some pretty hot sex in my backseat, but how in the fuck did we end up with these?”

Veronica searched her memory and a flood of snapshots came back. Celebratory shots at Eddie’s for Grade My Ass’s latest milestone. Sitting at a small table catching up. More shots.  Drunken giggling and making out in the Range Rover. Clothes flying. Him inside her. Curling up together. And then nothing.

“I have some serious blanks in my memory. How much did we drink?” she asked.

“Mmm...a lot,” he said, turning back to Veronica, his hands coming to rest on her hips. He leaned in and kissed her neck gently and nibbled at her ear playfully. “What do you say to some Advil, water, and more bed time? Or maybe even right here on the counter, I haven’t forgotten how much you love it when I use a hard surface for leverage,” he whispered, already urging her thighs up and around his hips.

He lifted her onto the counter and rubbed himself against her core, which she was only a little embarrassed to realize, was already wet. Logan moaned against her throat and moved to her lips. She was about to let him deepen the kiss when that nagging feeling in her head brought her back to her senses.  

She pulled back and placed her hands on Logan’s chest, Logan’s very nice chest.  _ He’s been working out, snap out of it!  _ Outloud she said, “Don’t you want to know what happened last night?”

He looked down where she was petting his chest, and smiled smugly. “Not really, Veronica.  What I want is to have you right here on this counter then crawl back in bed with you. Cuddle, sleep, maybe fuck you a couple more times. And when I finally get you nice and relaxed maybe make love to you.”

She felt her cheeks heat, and knew they were bright red. “You say the sweetest things.” And she meant it. 

“And after we do all that, we can go solve the mystery of our new body art.”

“You have the best ideas, but before we take advantage of this counter I think we need to revisit the Advil and water. My head and my ass hurt.”

Logan gave her a bow as courtly as a bow can look when naked. “As you wish.” 


	23. When I Was a Brady

July 17th, 2015

Back in high school, Cassidy and I used to joke a lot about life back when we were Bradys. Not that we were ever really Bradys, but things used to be different. Once, a long time ago, before shit got real—before Lilly died and Logan’s dad was a psycho...before the revolving door that is Logan and Veronica...before Beav jumped and Kendall fucked my best friend. Yeah, before all that—I was part of a family.

It wasn’t a normal family like Madison’s. We didn’t all hang out and have family movie night or spend weekends at the country club together playing golf or shuffleboard. Dad mostly worked late and mom mostly shopped or went to whatever spa was hot and new. But we ate together. Mostly breakfast. Mom didn’t cook it and Dad mostly drank coffee and worked on his laptop. But we were a family. We’d say stupid shit—stupid meaningless shit—like “pass the syrup” or “this needs butter” or “dude, you stink”.  And mom would ask if we’d done our homework or tell us not to play violent video games. We’d play tic-tac-toe with our Joshola crayons and Beav would try to make me laugh, and then I’d make him laugh so hard that milk would come out his nose. We weren’t functional, but we did function.

But it was a long time ago and I’m starting to forget. Forget the good times with Beaver and mom and dad. Sometimes I even forget their faces and have to find an old picture to remind myself of what they all looked like. And every once in a while I’ll just be doing something mundane, I’ll get a spark of what it was like to have a family like they do on TV or in movies, or a flicker of what it felt like to have a brother and a mother and a dad. And then memories wash over me so fast and from out of nowhere and I fucking start to tear up—thinking of this time, once upon a time and so long ago when I was almost a Brady.


	24. Eccentricities

September 7, 2014

**Vo·ra·cious   /vəˈrāSHəs/ adj.   wanting or devouring great quantities of foo** d

I secretly like to read a lot. I’d say it’s more extreme than that. I’m a voracious reader.

The truth is that I had to be. Because I had to mostly entertain myself. Sure, I had nannies to make sure I was well looked after and housekeepers making sure I was fed. But the truth of the matter is that I am basically on my own. You have to be careful when you’re the son of big stars. Playdates weren’t allowed because the kidnapping risk is too high. So I started the habit of reading the moment I was able too. It kept me quiet which Aaron always liked. And it was interesting escaping into other worlds when my own was so...lonely. It didn’t hurt that even when I was little, I was good at it. And it got me attention.

“What a smart boy you are.” “Look at that big book.” “How do you know all those big words?”

So now when I see new words, I mentally bookmark them for later, so I can whip them out when it will cause the most shock value...the most punch value...the most _damage_.

I liked the attention. And now busting out big, esoteric words and obscure quotes at opportune moments has kind of become my thing. I like that people are surprised by the depth of my character.

**Vap·id   /ˈvapəd/  adj. offering nothing that is stimulating or challenging.**

And there’s no doubt that it helps with the ladies. Just yesterday, I called Caitlin vapid during an aggressive make-out session and she came all over my hand. She’s so stupid she doesn’t even know when I’m insulting her.

**An·thro·po·mor·phic  /ˌanTHrəpəˈmôrfik/ adj. characterized by having human characteristics.**

Sometimes when I look at Caitlin I think she looks like an alien from some far away planet of plastic people. Plast-o-lactica. She’s had so much work done that I feel like it’s possible. She’s anthropomorphic with just enough human traits to barely pass as a homosapien, like the women my dad parades around when he thinks no one’s looking. Or how my mom looks after she visits her surgeon. But Caitlin looks good standing next to me, and she doesn’t give me too much shit. And I’m sure it would piss Lilly off that I’m with her, and thus, pisses off Veronica Mars, which is just an added bonus these days.

Huzzah! My life is complete.


	25. We're On It

Check back in early November for this thrilling tale of...well, smut.


	26. Always a Day Away

When I was seven years old my mom played Miss Hannigan in a Broadway production of Annie. And she took me with her. Trina, of course, had been adamant that she stay in LA with our father, but had I begged and begged to go with Mom, never dreaming she’d actually take me.

I spent all of second grade at Dalton School on the Upper East Side. I don’t remember much about the actual school, but I remember that it was one of the best years of my life. We had a nanny to take me to school and things, and my mom worked most evenings, but for the most part—for one whole year—it was the two of us. My mom and me.

Most nights my mom would let me come to the set with her, and by the time the run was over, I was best friends with both casts’ Annie and most of the orphans.

It was magical.

My mom would sit me on her lap backstage and we’d watch the little CCTV together at the beginning of the show when Annie sang “Maybe”. My mother never failed to tear up at the lyrics, and I’d tease her when she’d have to touch up her make up just before she had to rush onstage.

I’d watch from the wings with the stagehands as my mom slurred out the lyrics to “Little Girls” as she stumbled around onstage, pretending to be an alcoholic child hater.

I’d laugh along with the audience as she flirted with Daddy Warbucks or Mr. Bundles.

I’d gather with the orphans to listen to Annie belt out the song “Tomorrow” to a fake FDR and his first lady.

And when most children my age were tucked into bed, I was cheering as my mom took to the stage for her final bow and then signed autographs outside the stage door. 

I’d smile proudly as everyone told me how amazing my mother was and how lucky I was to be her son. And I _was_ lucky.

I remember wishing it could always be this way. I wished we could just stay in New York forever.

Just the two of us.


	27. Hold that thought

Hopefully this spot will be filled soon.


	28. The Common Denominator

October 23, 2007

When I was little, Trina and I went through a lot of nannies. Not like once a month or anything, but as far back as I can remember, none of them ever lasted a full year. One day they’d be there and the next they just wouldn’t.

Often the catalyst was my mom yelling at my dad, and then suddenly the next day our nanny would be gone. Mom would be frazzled and shuttle us around for a few days while muttering under her breath about my dad keeping his pants on. Then a new nanny would magically appear. I hated those arguments. I knew it would signal change. Either my mom would take off for a few weeks, or the nanny would leave. Sometimes we’d get lucky and Aaron would be the one to go for a while. That was the best. But I knew I couldn’t ever get too attached. When our nanny tucked us in at night and said that she’d see us tomorrow, there was only a fifty-fifty chance she’d actually be there when we woke up.

People were always leaving me. Often without a goodbye.

Nannies were one thing—I could live with that. It was good for me. It taught me to adjust easily to change. It taught me not to get too attached. And I didn’t for a long time. Until we moved to Neptune. Things were still shitty at home with Aaron, but I had friends. Nannies were a thing of the past, but stable friends replaced them. Lilly. Duncan. Veronica. I had a family. People I could count on. Friends whose houses I could hide out in. People that were here to stay. And I learned to trust again. To love even.

The last thing Lilly said to me was, “Logan, Logan, Logan. Always with the dramatics. You’re in Mexico. Have fun. Live it up. Move on. We can talk about us tomorrow.”

Except for Lilly and I, there was no tomorrow. I wish every day that I hadn’t gone to Mexico that weekend. If I hadn’t I’d have been with her. She’d still be alive. I could have prevented her murder. Hell, if I hadn’t moved to Neptune, I could have prevented her murder.

Duncan was the same. I’ve never asked Veronica her role in Duncan leaving, but she was involved. _Of course_ , she was involved. Duncan and I weren’t close by then, but I remember the last thing I said to him. I missed him. I was sick of all this surface bullshit communication. I wasn’t willing to lose him even if he was with Veronica. He had a baby for fuck's sake. If that doesn’t put friendship in perspective, I don’t know what does.

The last thing Duncan said to me was, “Can we talk tomorrow? I’ve got to go talk to a lawyer about baby Lilly.”

We all know how that ended.

My mom couldn’t be bothered to say goodbye. The last thing she said to me—just to me—was the morning of the blow up at school. She said, “What do you say you and I get away for a few days? You could skip school tomorrow and we can sneak up to LA. Have a mother-son day.”

And before school was out that day, she was gone. I wish I had just stolen away with her right then. Told her we didn’t have to wait until tomorrow to sneak away. If I had, she’d probably still be here too.

Which leads us to the voice mail message that got me to where I am at this very moment.

Veronica.

I hit play and listened to her voice again. 

“Logan…we need to talk. I wanted to speak to you in person, but you’re not answering. Everything’s just moving so fast. But there are things that need to be said. I’ll call you…tomorrow.”

And then nothing. Zippo. Zilch. Nada. Absolute radio silence.

And though I’d expected more from her, I shouldn’t have. I drove her away.

She was the last person to go and with her my last shot at believing in humanity. The last of the Mohicans. My very own Chingachgook. My absolute last hope that I was worth enough to stick around for. Or at the very least that I was worth enough to say goodbye to. But then that’s it, right? The common denominator.

Me.

And now as I look at the pile of Fentanyl resting in my palm and admit I’ve become my mother, I realize that at least I succeeded in one way. I didn’t become _him._ And, hell, there’s no one for me to leave behind.

I throw back the hand full of medication and wash it down with the bit of Vodka left in the bottle on the coffee table. I wait a few minutes for all the shit in my head to become meaningless. It’s such a wonderful feeling. But in the back of my head, I realize that sometimes tomorrow never comes and call out goodbye to Dick as oblivion takes over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally meant for tomorrow...but Annie somehow took over right before We went to publish. Hope it works okay for today too!


	29. Updates!

Hi Everyone!  It took a while to get here but I'm finally updating the missing chapters.  I'll keep updating this chapter with which ones have been updated.

Cheers - KMD

 

First up: [Chapter 18 Rotten](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155167/chapters/38253074) (03-27-2019)


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